


Tides

by sara_merry99



Category: Riptide (TV), The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, First Time, M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6522088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_merry99/pseuds/sara_merry99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Seven tackles a case that takes them from Denver to a boat off the coast of Los Angeles where they're assisted by the Riptide Detective Agency. Both teams have to overcome their reluctance to work with others to save a hostage, solve a crime and bring some gun runners to justice. During the course of the case, Chris and Vin find that there's a deeper level of connection between them than they thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tides

**Author's Note:**

> While this story is a crossover between the ATF AU of The Magnificent Seven and the 1980s detective show Riptide, I wrote it so that it was primarily oriented toward a Magnficent Seven fan audience. It is set in the "present" of the ATF AU (late 1990s/early 2000s) and fifteen years into the future of the Riptide characters.
> 
> Betas: Catyah and arouette were hugely encouraging, from the first word all the way through to the last. farad made lots of things better, most dramatically the action sequence. And sassyinkpen did a final beta. Thanks to all of y'all!

"I see Carasco, boys," Vin Tanner said, speaking softly into the headset microphone that kept him in touch with his teammates. He watched the nighttime meeting from his perch on a dockside warehouse roof and wished they'd had time to find him a position that afforded him clearer lines of sight. "He's got five guys with him. Another two are approaching from the south, looks like they're coming from the pier."

Down below, their target, gun runner Victor Carasco, greeted one of the other men that walked up. They met with a handshake that ended in a friendly, shoulder-slapping hug. A laugh floated up to the roof. "Don't seem like a business deal going down, though," Vin said.

"Get a picture of the man he's talking to, JD," Chris said, directing his team from his position around a corner and out of sight of the action. 

Vin took a deep breath, steadying his pulse and his hands. Team Seven hadn't had much of a chance to plan or prepare this operation, so they were making do with what they'd been able to work out on the fly. Vin's position allowed him to keep an eye on Carasco and his men and two of his ATF teammates, Buck and JD. Josiah and Ezra were their emergency backup plan, waiting in the wings. Nathan and Chris were at opposite ends of the building, out of sight. On their own. 

Vin hated the deployment, but had just nodded and climbed up to the roof without another word. Chris could take care of himself, so could Nathan, hell they all could, but Vin preferred it when he could watch his teammates' backs. Especially Chris's.

"Got it already," JD said. "I'm going to circle around and see if I can get a better angle though. Why can't these meetings ever happen in good lighting?"

Vin glanced over to where he could barely make out JD, who was nothing more than a thickness in the shadows, moving slowly along between a pile of crates and the wall. A flicker of movement and a bit of lightness out of place caught his eye and he hissed into the wire, "JD, freeze." The shadow that was JD stopped moving.

"What is it Vin?" Chris asked. From his position he could see along the pier, but not into the alley where the action was happening.

"Three more people coming in, from the north," Vin said, watching them carefully. The three men were dressed all in black and wore watch caps and sunglasses. They kept to the shadows and had a watchful eye in all directions as they crept slowly forward. "Don't look like they were invited to the party."

"Guns?" The question was just a breath and Vin hoped that JD hadn't taken the risk of asking. He was only a few feet away from them, separated by only the darkness and a low stack of crates.

Vin watched for a second more. He saw a flash of metal in one hand, maybe a tell-tale shadow in another, but it was hard to be certain. "Looks like, can't quite tell."

"Damn it, Travis said the FBI were letting us take the lead on this one. If those are Feebs, I'll have their hides," Chris said, anger in his voice.

Vin watched as one of the men, tall, skinny and leggy as a newborn colt, tripped over something and almost fell into a patch of light visible from where Carasco's friend stood. One of the others caught him and pulled him into the shadows behind a stack of pallets. "They don't look like no agents I've ever seen," Vin said.

His only response was silence, though Vin could fill in the cursing that Chris wasn't sharing through the wire. With unknowns on the scene they couldn't risk unnecessary chatter. The three men circled around, keeping between the crates and the wall, heading not toward Carasco and his contact but toward the waterfront. He relayed that information to the others.

"I'll keep an eye on them," Chris said, his position the only one with a view of the waterfront.

Vin grunted and turned his attention back to Carasco. Just in time too. "Boys, we're definitely in the right place. It's them crates again." He counted the crates on the loaded carts Carasco's men were pushing, then said, "All 20 of them are here."

"Imported china, my ass," Buck said. 

A hum of excitement ran down Vin's spine. Those crates, labeled "Fine China Imports--Fragile", held high-tech weapons, misdirected from an Army shipment. Team Seven of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms had been following them for two weeks, tracking them as they passed from the soldier who'd signed the falsified paperwork, through a series of middlemen, to Victor Carasco, a low-end broker. With Carasco and the crates in one location, they could make an arrest, but the Bureau wanted Carasco's buyer far more than they wanted the broker himself.

Carasco and his friend, laughing and talking like this was a family reunion not a gun deal, walked toward the waterfront, five men pushing loaded dolleys following along behind.

"They're moving toward the waterfront, watch yourself Chris. I'm going to find a position at that end of the roof," Vin whispered, taking up his rifle and running along the warehouse roof far enough back from the edge that he wouldn't cast a telltale shadow.

Vin found himself a good position in the shadow of an HVAC unit where he was able to see all of Carasco's men. He first located Chris behind one of the big pillars used to tie up the cargo ships. Chris was way too close to the action for Vin's comfort, but there wasn't a lot he could do about it. Buck and JD found a position together in the shelter of a doorway, and Nathan darted behind an empty shipping container.

The cluster of men and dolleys walked out onto the relatively well lit pier, near a large, sleek yacht. It was bigger than any boat Vin'd seen, but against the scale of the warehouse it still looked tiny. A man on the boat extended a ramp from the boat to the pier just as Carasco and his friend arrived. When he bent over to adjust it, Vin saw a holstered gun at his hip. They'd expected the men to be armed, though there was no sign of tension between the two groups. Apparently Carasco and his contact weren't expecting trouble. Either of them. 

"Chris, where'd those three unknowns go?" Vin asked, scanning the shadows for them.

"They turned right onto the pier, but I lost them when I had to move," Chris said.

"Crap," Vin swore, when he spotted the three men, darkness layered in darkness. "Chris, they're hard by the front of the boat. Twenty feet from your position."

Chris popped his head out of the shadow that protected him to look around, his golden hair shining in the orange security lights. Vin turned his eye, and his sights, back to Carasco and his men. If they spotted Chris and raised an alarm he'd need to act before anyone got hurt.

Carasco shouted and pointed in Chris's direction, and Vin slowed his breath, focusing on controlling his pulse and finding the shot that would protect Chris. A shot was fired from the deck of the boat and three of Carasco's men drew their weapons and ran toward the commotion. Vin, forcing his voice as steady as his hands, said, "Chris?"

"Not me," came Chris's familiar voice. Vin took a breath then released it slowly. He looked away from Carasco and saw the three unknowns exposed in the beam of a searchlight from the boat's deck. 

Vin adjusted his position, taking aim on one of Carasco's men. If they had to reveal themselves to keep the three men, now being shouted at in a broken mix of Spanish and English, from getting killed, they would, of course, arresting Carasco and seizing the guns, but then they'd lose their chance at the buyer. The intruders'd be spending several years in prison for interfering with a Federal investigation. And they'd have to face down Larabee's anger, which Vin reckoned was probably a worse fate.

"Ezra, Josiah, we need you to extract the three unknowns. Now," Chris said. Vin breathed a little easier as Chris shifted into a more sheltered position, behind a low stack of crates, taking advantage of the distraction the unknowns were providing.

There was no direct response to his words, but Vin saw Ezra and Josiah, dressed in the uniform of the harbor's security guards, come trotting down the pier, holding onto their night sticks like all beat cops everywhere. Josiah ordered the three men to turn around and put their hands up, while Ezra stepped forward to talk to Carasco's men.

From his vantage point, Vin could only hear a few of the words, but within just a few minutes the three men were being escorted off the pier in handcuffs and Carasco and the wooden crates were loaded onto the boat, La Estrella de Mar. Vin held his position until he heard from Chris that the rest of the team were all back at the van and safe.

***

When he arrived at the van a few minutes later, Vin was prepared to bet that the three men didn't consider themselves safe at all. They were sitting in the open rear door of the van, hands still cuffed behind them as Larabee shouted, "...doing there? Do you know how many years you'll get for messing up our investigation? You're just lucky no one was hurt when we pulled your asses out of there."

One of the men jumped to his feet. "We didn't need your help, we could have gotten out on our own," he said. Buck shoved him back down and he moved to stand again, until Josiah rested a heavy hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.

Chris looked at the three men and said, "Stay there," with a hard glare. The skinny one looked like he was prepared to stand up and argue until the man next to him, blond and mustached, bumped him with his shoulder and shook his head no. The skinny man closed his mouth and sat back.

Vin stepped up next to Chris and gestured toward the three strangers with his head, raising his eyebrow in a question.

"Private investigators. Apparently Carasco's friend is named Alberto Ramirez. There's a girl on the boat they've been hired to find," Chris said, speaking softly.

"Kidnapping?"

"Say they don't know. Say they don't know anything about Carasco or the guns either. They tracked Ramirez here in his boat," Chris said. "They planted a GPS unit on it a couple of days ago, but weren't able to get aboard to get the girl."

Vin nodded. "GPS still working? That'll help us keep an eye on those guns."

Chris considered that for a minute, lips pursed. "Yeah," he finally said, turning toward them.

Before he could take a step though, JD bounded out of the side of the van with a whoop. "I knew it!" he shouted. He rushed to the prisoners and stopped in front of the skinny one. "Murray Bozinsky. I thought I recognized you, you were one of my heroes when I was a kid." The slender man winced just a bit as JD turned to Buck. "This is the Boz. Back in the 80s, he made the most awesome computer games and all kinds of cool robotics. Then he just sorta disappeared from all that and wound out writing articles on artificial intelligence and the use of computers in criminal investigations." He turned back to Bozinsky, and said, "You totally changed my life, Mr. Bozinsky. I was hacking into government and corporate systems, until I read your articles on forensic data analysis and cryptography. I would have wound out in jail rather than the police academy if it weren't for you."

The man relaxed a little and smiled. "Wow, that's completely boss," he said, looking pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "I didn't realize anyone was reading those articles." He moved like he was going to shake hands, but was stopped by the handcuffs.

"JD," Chris said, an edge in his voice, said, "What'd you find?"

JD backed away from Bozinsky and turned to Chris, looking sheepish. He handed over three wallets as he said, "Oh, right. Yeah, they check out. Riptide Detective Agency's been in business since 1984. Originally formed as the Pier 56 Detective Agency, re-incorporated a few months later when they added Mr. Bozinsky as a co-owner. They have a few minor arrests for breaking and entering, reckless driving, disorderly conduct, all more than ten years ago. No convictions. Address of record for all three of them is Slip 12, Pier 56, King Harbor, Redondo Beach, CA. They're who they say they are."

The dark haired one leaned over to the blond and whispered something that made him smile, just a flicker of amusement quickly lost in his bushy mustache.

Chris thought for a second, then nodded to Josiah. "Uncuff 'em." He tossed their IDs in their laps as they stretched their arms and worked out the kinks. "Cody Allen, Nick Ryder, Murray Bozinsky, you have information that is material to our investigation and we want it. Now. This isn't a request. We could arrest you for interfering with a federal investigation, but we'd rather not do that."

The dark haired, belligerent one, Ryder apparently, stood and held his hand out to Ezra, with a glare that would have done Larabee proud. Ezra, probably feeling belligerent himself at having spent the last two hours in a polyester security guard uniform, gave a patently false smile and slapped the two handguns in the outstretched hand. Ryder handed one to Allen and checked the clip on the other one before tucking it back into the holster under his jacket. He looked at his two partners and got some response that Vin couldn't see, because when he turned back to Chris, he said, "Everything we have is at our boat, the Riptide." The skinny one, Bozinsky, twitched a little at that, but Allen made a gesture with his hand and he was quiet. "We'll meet you there."

Chris shook his head. "No, we'll follow you."

Allen laughed. "That's going to be difficult for you. We came here by boat."

"You came in from the street side, not the pier," Vin said, suspicions raised again.

"You can't sneak up on someone in a speedboat, trust me. We tied up in one of the channels away from the main waterway and walked over," Allen said, looking sincere. Sincerity could be faked, Vin knew, but he didn't get the feel that Allen was lying to them. Ezra was the expert on that though.

Nathan turned to Chris. "I'll ride over with them, meet y'all there," he said. "I haven't been on a speedboat in years."

Chris nodded and said, "Okay." He turned to Buck. "You too. Keep in touch." Buck nodded and the five of them walked off. 

***

When they were all five on the Ebbtide II, Murray stood at Cody's back in the cockpit, hands on his shoulders. When Nick joined them after casting off, Murray pulled a portable computer from his pocket and checked the screen. The GPS signal showing La Estrella de Mar's location was moving steadily and slowly out of the waterway.

Nick looked at it for a second, then took it from Murray and stuck it into Cody's view. Cody looked away from his steering for a second, then said, "The Estrella's capable of a lot more speed than that. Whatever Ramirez is up to," Nick snorted but Cody ignored him and went on, "he's not in any hurry. Keep an eye on that, but I bet they're going back to the Yacht Club."

Nick looked back over his shoulder and Murray followed his eyes. The two ATF agents, the tall one with the mustache was apparently called Buck but he hadn't caught the other man's name, were watching them closely, not crowding but apparently not missing anything either.

Murray ran a hand over his head, wondering how the ATF had come to be involved in their missing persons case. And why. Not that he was prepared to complain that they'd been pulled out of there. Nick might be confident that they could have gotten out on their own, but Murray was far less certain. 

With another look back over his shoulder at the agents, Murray said, softly, "Should I show them?"

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose, then said, "Yeah. We'll be giving them everything as soon as we get back to the Riptide. Might as well give them that now."

Murray nodded. Two steps took him to where the men were seated and he handed the computer to the one called Buck. "That moving light is the Estrella de Mar. Cody says the boat can go a lot faster than it is, so he doesn't think they're in any hurry at the moment. Probably going back home."

The black man, voice low and smooth like chocolate, said, "Where's home?"

"Marina Del Rey, just up the coast," Murray said. "Ramirez lives on the boat in the Yacht Club."

Nick walked up behind Murray, a solid and familiar presence, and said, "We could follow them there and make sure that's where they stop, but we won't get back to King Harbor as quickly."

Buck turned to the other agent and said, "What do you think, Nathan?"

"They could offload the crates in the middle of the night and we'd lose them. We should have the whole team meet us there," the black man said, reaching for his cell phone.

Murray smiled, and said before he could dial, "Well, we have security cameras up all over the marina." The two men looked at him sharply, eyes narrowed. "Completely legal. The marina management hired us to provide security and surveillance. They know we're recording everything that happens on the piers and in the parking lots."

"Any cameras on the boats?" Buck asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

Nick shook his head. "No. Just on the public areas. Surveillance not spying." 

"Where are the monitors?" Nathan asked, looking again at the handheld computer and the moving green dot. 

"The main monitors are at the marina office. But we can also pick up the feed at the Riptide. If they off-load anything we'll know exactly what and be able to get a license plate for the vehicle they load it on to. Camera coverage is very good," Murray said.

Buck shook his head, with a low whistle. "How'd you get the management to go for letting you have your own feed of the security footage?" 

Nick smiled and waved at Cody, whose attention was focused on steering the boat. "Cody's good. Convinced them it was an additional service. We charge them extra for that." 

Buck laughed. "Hell, he is good. I'm not sure even Ezra could have pulled that off. Nathan, call the others, tell them we'll be up to King Harbor as soon as they make port, sooner if it's obvious they're going somewhere other than their yacht club."

"There's a hotel right near Pier 56 called Straightaway's, your team can take some rooms there. They can't miss it going up the shore road," Nick said. "We'll call when we're about half an hour out so they can meet us at the boat."

***

The sun was up and the waterfront community was starting to hum with activity by the time the Ebbtide II pulled into her slip. Vin, a bag of equipment over his shoulder and a gun case in his hand, hung back behind the others and watched while Ryder, Allen and Bozinsky worked smoothly to tie up the boat and cover her with a tarp. He admired the ease with which they worked together, the familiarity of years and affection showing in small ways. Allen helped Bozinsky onto the pier without even thinking about it, his hand lingering a bit more than necessary on the thin shoulder. Vin looked to Ryder and saw a small smile on his face as he watched. 

He shook his head. Whatever was going on with the three of them, it wasn't any of his business anyway. 

When the speedboat was secure, Allen lead the way to a larger, multi-decked boat. It was smaller than the boat the guns had been loaded onto, the Estrella de Mar, and far less sleek, with a two story deck-house of weathered wood. As he opened the door, Allen said, "This is the Riptide, our home and our business office." 

They escorted people into the living room, which was clean and comfortable, with a sofa and chairs on one side and a table with a built in bench seat on the other. The ten of them were crammed in there like rabbits in a warren, but Vin imagined it'd be comfortable enough with just three. Maybe a little close, but not too bad. 

Still, he thought, looking out the window at the surrounding boats and the people all around, there didn't seem to be a lot of privacy here. He preferred the open spaces around Larabee's ranch, nothing for miles but horses and prairie grass and mountains. 

Vin turned away from the window, finding himself a spot in a corner near a table with a coffee warmer, like they had in diners, on it. The pot was empty, damn it. He thought about finding the kitchen and making some, figuring that caffeine and maybe a little rest would ease the stress some. 

"You won't all fit down in the computer room, Agent..." Ryder said, speaking over the bustle of movement. There followed a quick round of introductions, before he said again, "As I said, Agent Larabee, you won't all fit in the computer room. We've got recordings and a live feed of images from Marina Del Rey, we've even got audio."

"Audio," Chris said, eyes narrowed. "You haven't bugged their boat have you?" 

Ryder coughed and Allen stepped forward. "We have some high gain mics on the public areas of the pier. Anyone who lives on a boat can tell you that in port you have almost no privacy. Anything he said that our mic picked up we consider public." 

Chris turned to look at Bozinsky who was fidgeting. "What is it, Bozinsky? You have something to say?" His voice was sharp suddenly, and the skinny man, all arms and legs and big thick glasses, jumped.

"We did put a mic on their boat, just tonight, last night." When Ryder glared at him, Bozinsky said, "We told these guys we'd give them everything, Nick." He gave a little wave around the room as he went on, "Look, these guys are ATF. Think about it. I doubt they'd have a team like this on the case if that guy Ramirez picked up was smuggling crates of cigarettes, or moonshine. That means those are guns. Probably not handguns, either. We're giving them everything." For a man who looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over, he could summon some decent authority into his voice.

Ryder looked at Allen then back at Bozinsky with a fond smile. "You're right, Boz. How bad can federal prison be anyway?" 

"We just put the bug on the Estrella tonight," Bozinsky said, turning back to Chris with an earnest and almost pleading. "That's why we were there. We know that Miss Morales was on the boat a few days ago, but we haven't seen her since. We've heard some muffled sounds on the harbor mics," Chris looked quickly at Buck who gave a reassuring nod, while Bozinsky went on, "but they're mostly focused on the salon and the pilot house. We were hoping to catch her on the bug, maybe get an idea if she's okay or not."

"You realize that's illegal?" Josiah said in his softly rumbling voice. 

Bozinsky nodded. "Yeah. But we weren't planning on using the information for anything except to help our client, and Miss Morales if she needs it. It's not spying, exactly." 

Ryder stepped up and put his hand on Bozinsky's shoulder, and Vin wondered if the move was supposed to look as protective as it did. "We haven't even checked to see if the feed's working yet." Bozinsky pulled a small black device out of a case attached to his belt and pushed a few buttons, then he nodded. 

"We'll share that with you too, but," Nick said as he turned to Chris, "we want to go with you when you hit the Estrella de Mar." 

Vin winced even before Chris shouted, "Absolutely not! You've already interfered with our operation once and I'll be damned if I let you do it again." 

Ryder stepped right up into his face and said, "Without us you haven't got an operation. And we're not letting you and your people blast onto that boat and get Melina Morales killed. We were hired to find out if she's okay and if she's not to get her to safety and damn it we're going to do that if we have to leave you and your team of jokers behind." 

"We could arrest you, Mr. Ryder, and seize all of your property, including your computer equipment, your monitors, and your boat. We don't need you," Chris said, voice low and as full of danger as the hum of a rattlesnake. 

The room erupted into shouts and chaos and Vin slipped down a staircase into the kitchen and from there out onto the lowest deck. The argument seemed likely to take a while and if he couldn't have coffee he could at least have a little relaxation while he waited.

***

Worn down by lack of sleep and the shouting, which didn't seem to have an end in sight, Murray slipped into the galley and started a pot of coffee brewing. Everyone was over-tired and caffeine would help with that. While the machine ran, he went out to the fantail. A few minutes of dozing in the sun would do him a world of good. 

He was surprised to see one of the agents out there, the quiet young one he'd only gotten a glimpse of while the leader of them, Laramie, was yelling at them. He sighed. He didn't really want to have to deal with anyone else. The young agent must have slipped out of the room even before Murray did. He was sitting on one of the chairs, some sort of rifle or gun on the table next to him, polishing an automatic pistol with a cloth. 

Murray sat down on the bench seat on the other side of the table and looked at the unusual gun, pushing up his glasses so he could get a better view. It was shaped like a rifle but it wasn't much longer than the pistol, wood polished smooth and dark, brass gleaming. 

"It's okay, Mr. Bozinsky. You can pick it up if you want."

At the softly drawled words, Murray snatched his hand back away from the unusual gun, rifle?, he was looking at. He hadn't even realized he was reaching toward it. The young man next to him, long legs stretched out across the deck, collar length hair ruffling in the breeze, smiled and made an encouraging motion with the cloth in his near hand. 

"No, no, that's okay, Agent," Murray thought for a minute, trying to remember which of the seven names that had flown by him at light speed belonged to this man, "Agent Standish. I couldn't..."

His words were cut off when the young man barked a laugh. "Ezra won't thank you for mixing us up," he said, with a big grin. "Standish is one of the ones who got you out of there last night. He's wearing a fancy silk suit and Italian shoes. I'm Tanner. Vin Tanner."

Murray stammered out an apology but Tanner shook his head and held up his hand. "Got nothing to apologize for. There's a lot of us to keep straight and only three of y'all." He winked. "And JD's been showing off your picture and articles like he's braggin' on kin or something."

Murray laughed and relaxed. Vin Tanner didn't look like any Federal agent he'd ever seen. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a t-shirt advertising a sports team Murray didn't recognize the name of. Unlike some of his colleagues, Tanner was easy to be around, soft voiced and quiet. 

Murray listened to the commotion from the salon for a moment, then sighed. Much as Murray liked Nick's gruff and dominant side he wasn't in the mood to watch him posturing with the head agent. Particularly when the Riptide Detective Agency no longer had any role in their case except on sufferance of the ATF. Not anymore. If Nick pissed off Laramie, Lara-something anyway, too much the agents'd commandeer the Ebbtide and go off after Carasco and his guns without them. And that would just piss Nick off more. 

Silently, Murray wished Cody luck with his mediating, but calming the two volatile men was looking to be an almost hopeless task. Fortunately two of the agents, Buck and the older one with the voice of a priest, were trying to keep the peace as well. 

Tanner set the automatic pistol down in a padded case that was sitting on the deck next to him. The hole in the foam was obviously made to fit the weapon on the table, and the pistol was angled half in and half out. Tanner nudged the unusual gun toward Murray. Murray leaned back in his seat, keeping away. 

"You can't hurt it," Tanner said. "It's been through more than you can dish out."

"I've never seen a gun like it," Murray said, fascinated despite himself.

"Well, that ain't too surprising. I don't reckon they were common even back in the day. It's a sawed-off rifle. Nowadays it's against the law to cut down a longarm, but this was done over a hundred years ago. It's an 1875 Winchester lever-action rifle. Modified trigger guard too. Maybe the original owner had big hands or something." He ran his fingers across the brass and steel in a gentle gesture, almost a caress. After a moment he looked up at Murray and chuckled. "Sorry, I go on sometimes." He tilted his head, then went on, "I've got a permit for it."

His voice sounded a little defensive on the last words and Murray smiled. "You'd have to, wouldn't you?"

"Well, it wouldn't look right for an ATF agent to get arrested with an illegal firearm. Wouldn't do my career a lick of good," Tanner said with a smile. 

"You're not going to...?" Murray started to ask, then as confusion took over the question faded away. It was clear that the agent was cleaning both the pistol and the rifle, getting them ready for an expected fight the same way Cody and Nick prepared. But surely he wasn't panning on using the antique...

With a chuckle Tanner said, "Hell, no. I was in town for a firearms conference. The ATF's big on professional development these days so it was worth it to them to send me out here even with this case going. I brought the mare's leg along for show 'n' tell. I should probably have left it in the hotel room, but I don't trust hotel locks, is all." 

Understanding, Murray said, "Well, you can put it in the computer room if you want, it's the most secure place in King Harbor." He looked back to the gun. With age it had acquired dings and scratches in the metal and wood, the marks of much handling and use. He wondered how many people had died because of it, and how many had lived. 

Focused on the gun, Murray was surprised when Tanner nudged it toward him again. "It's old, but it's not gonna break. Go on and pick it up if you want. It ain't loaded."

Murray held his hands up and said, "No, I don't...I don't like guns. I was just curious. I couldn't..." He was embarrassed by the shake in his voice. Damn it, it'd been nearly fifteen years, and yet the guilt was still as fresh and hard as it had been when he shot Nathan Warwick.

Tanner tilted his head and studied him, curiosity in his blue eyes. "You don't carry?" he asked.

Murray's shudder at the thought was all the answer he could offer.

Tanner nodded, his eyes hooded. "Your partners both do."

"Yeah," Murray said, "I don't know what kind they are, just that they're both 9mms. You could probably tell me," he said, looking at the agent. Tanner gave a small smile and nod and Murray went on, "Sometimes I have to buy the bullets, that's how I know what ammunition they take." 

Vin picked up the cut-down rifle and put it carefully in its case, picking up his pistol as he did so. Cradling the pistol, black and angular and aggressive looking, in his palm, he said, "They don't mind you're not packing?"

Murray wrapped his arms around his chest. "No. They understand. It's been a long time, they've gotten used to it."

Lost in memory, overwhelmed by the sight of the bullet penetrating Warwick's chest, the sound of the impact, the smell of gunpowder, Murray was surprised then when Tanner tapped his knee softly. "Who was it?" Tanner asked, his raspy voice gentle.

Murray forced his arms down to his sides, and looked out over King Harbor. "He'd just shot Cody, and I lost it. I thought...I thought Cody was dead. So I..." He rubbed the palm of his right hand, remembering the hard feel of the gun pressing into skin and muscle. "We were told he was a rapist and a murderer. But he wasn't. He was just an innocent man targeted by a crazy cop." Murray focused on a seagull bobbing on the gentle waves, a peaceful image.

After a minute or so, Tanner said, "You sure he's the one who'd shot your friend?"

Murray nodded. "Yeah," he said. He'd raised this point with himself a thousand times, but it didn't make a difference in how he felt.

"Not so innocent, then. At least not in my book," Vin said.

Murray shrugged, still watching the gull. "Yeah, that's what Cody and Nick say." He turned toward Tanner and gave a small smile. "It's not that simple, of course."

Tanner made a sympathetic noise and slipped the pistol into a holster at the small of his back. "Nothing's ever simple in this life. Just got to muddle through and do the best you can."

The raised voices from inside peaked into overlapping shouts and Murray looked up to the upper deck, half expecting to see someone, Nick or one of the ATF agents, come flying through the salon door. But nothing happened and after a second, he turned back to Tanner, now stretched out in his seat with his legs crossed at the ankles. Murray smiled, and said, "Your boss reminds me a lot of Nick."

Tanner snorted. "Larabee's bark's worse than his bite. Y'all'll get along with him fine if you just remember that." He looked over at Murray and said, "Bet Mr. Ryder's like that too. Acts like a hard-ass all the time, but inside he's a real good man."

"Yeah," Murray said. "He and Cody were the best after...," his voice trailed away. Tanner nodded and pursed his lips for a second and Murray went on, "Never pressured me about the gun thing or made me feel like I was any less valuable to the agency. I couldn't have asked for better friends. Or better partners." Or lovers, he thought to himself, but he wasn't about to share that with the rough and ready man in front of him. He didn't think Larabee, or any of his men, would be that open minded about three men in a committed relationship.

Tanner sighed and looked at him, a solemn expression on his face. "You're a lucky man to have friends like that."

Surprised, Murray glanced up toward the salon, where the voices still hummed, and said, "Your team...I guess I assumed you were all friends as well as...well, colleagues."

Tanner smiled. "Yeah. They ain't just friends, they're my family. Best group of people I've ever known."

"Well, then," Murray said, "they'd understand if you'd done something and couldn't," he took a deep breath, "couldn't risk doing it again."

Tanner shook his head. "Maybe Ezra or JD could get away without using their weapons, though they'd still have to qualify at the range to keep their badges. Even Josiah. But not me. My job begins and ends with what I can do with a gun. Has since I was younger than those boys over there." He waved a hand toward a distant crowd of young college students playing volleyball on the beach.

Murray nodded, understanding. "Military?"

Tanner gave a crooked smile. "Army. Enlisted on my eighteenth birthday. Always had sharp eyes so they trained me up as a sniper and I been doing it ever since. I'm damn good at it too. I've shot and killed," he thought for a minute, "twelve men, two women." There was a pause and Murray had the sense that the count wasn't complete, but Tanner went on after just a heartbeat, "Can't count the number I've shot and wounded. I stopped asking if they's innocent or guilty in Somalia." He paused for a minute, hands tight around the arms of the deck chair. Murray was about to say something, anything, to fill the heavy silence when Tanner spoke again. "Tried to walk away from it then but the Army wouldn't let me. Said they'd invested too much in my training to let me go soft over one..." His words stopped suddenly and he spread his hands out, looking at Murray from the corner of his eye. "Your tax dollars at work, makin' killers like me."

Tanner's drawl had thickened while he spoke and Murray felt like he was seeing a side of the young man that was normally carefully hidden. "They're your friends," Murray insisted, "they'd understand if you couldn't do it anymore."

Tanner leaned down and snapped the gun case shut, locking it with a small key he tucked in his pocket, then pushed himself to his feet and said, "Could be that you're right, Mr. Bozinsky. I'll give it some thought." 

Murray stood and offered his hand, "Call me Murray." 

Tanner smiled and gripped Murray's hand firmly in both of his, the clasp somehow more familiar than a normal handshake. Murray smiled as Tanner said, "Vin." He tilted his head toward the stairs to the upper deck, "Let's go see what the dogs have got up to. I don't much like that quiet."

Murray opened the door for him. "Coffee's probably ready, maybe that'll help. I think I could find something for breakfast too." 

"Always good to feed the animals," Vin said, as he walked into the boat, dim after the bright morning, "keeps 'em peaceful." 

***

They walked into the salon with two trays, one with coffee and mugs, the other with bagels, cream cheese, a bunch of bananas, and two boxes of PopTarts. The men in the room parted to let them pass, Ryder and Allen on one side of the room, Team Seven on the other. 

Chris walked in from the deck and found Vin with his eyes. His head tilted, checking to make sure Vin was okay. Vin nodded and smiled, pleased to have been missed. "We brought y'all breakfast," he said, setting his tray down on the table. 

While the others came in and selected their breakfasts, Chris sidled up behind Vin. Vin turned to him and asked, softly, "So what's going on?"

"They're going to take us out there. We'll see about whether they're going on the Estrella once we know more about the situation," Chris said, voice just as soft. 

"Surprised Ryder went for that," Vin said, eyeing the dark man, who was hovering around Murray, not quite touching but staying close. 

"Didn't leave them much choice. Allen's got plans of the Estrella, he was going to get them when I stepped out onto the deck," Chris said. He moved even closer to Vin and said, "You okay?"

Vin shrugged, and said, "Yeah, just a bit crowded in here. Needed some air." 

He wondered for a second if Chris had heard what he'd said to Murray out there on the lower deck. Jesus, what the hell'd he been thinking opening up to the man like that, spilling his guts? If Chris heard any of it he'd be worried about Vin going soft right in the middle of the operation. No wonder he was standing so close. To set Chris's mind at ease, he said, "Hope we start moving soon, I hate this waiting." 

Chris grunted in response then went to the table to get his own cup of coffee, leaving Vin feeling strangely discontent. 

Across the room JD was saying something to Buck that made the tall man cuff him gently on the back of the head. JD danced a step away, then said, louder, "Hey, they have 'em, why can't we?"

Buck set down his cup of coffee on the table then grabbed JD and pulled him in for a noogie. "'Cause PopTarts ain't food, kid. They'll stunt your growth." 

JD pushed out of Buck's hold and said, indignant, "My growth's none of your business, Buck. At least I can still eat them without getting fat and slow." 

The others laughed, even Ryder and Allen, and that broke the cold tension in the room some. 

A few minutes later, when second cups of coffee had been poured, Murray pulled out the black device again and checked the screen. "They're still at Marina Del Rey. I'm going to go check on the surveillance cameras and the harbor mics. Make sure nothing happened overnight." He turned to JD and said, "You want to come see?" 

"Hell, yeah!" JD said, draining the rest of his coffee and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The two men ran down the stairs with equal enthusiasm. Murray hardly looked five years older than JD at that moment, let alone twenty. 

Ryder cleared the table with Josiah's help, carrying the trays, now filled with dirty cups, crumbs and PopTart wrappers down the stairs that lead to the kitchen. Allen spread some papers out on the table, nautical charts it looked like, and handed each agent a printed sheet that showed the plan of a boat. 

"The Estrella De Mar's a Lazzara 110. She has three decks, four passenger staterooms, and separate quarters for the captain and crew. Ramirez lives aboard along with the boat's captain, and the two bodyguards you saw with him last night. They also act as crew. This is the standard floor plan of the boat, but there's no telling how Ramirez might have modified it," he took a sip of his coffee. "She's bigger than the Riptide, and sits up higher in the water, but we're faster. And we have the Ebbtide which is even faster still."

Ryder walked back into the room, and said, "We've also got a helicopter for air support." 

Chris nodded at that and made a satisfied noise, then waved them all in close. They gathered around the table studying the plans and brainstorming ideas for how to handle taking both the Estrella and whoever she was going to be meeting. 

They were still discussing, when Murray came back up from the computer room. "Cody, Nick, Vin," Ryder's head snapped up at Murray's mention of Vin's name and Vin heard Chris mutter something as he walked past, "we've got something."

Vin followed them downstairs, Chris hard behind him despite not having been invited.

JD was staring intently at the computer screen, adjusting a bank of sliders like a music mixing board. "I think I got it better now, Boz," he said as they walked in. 

"Good," Murray said. He turned to the men who'd followed him, blinked twice when he noticed Chris in the crowd, then shrugged. "They didn't take anything off the boat last night. JD and I were worried that they'd offload onto a Zodiac or some other small boat rather than onto the pier. Our cameras wouldn't have caught that. The harbor mics didn't pick up any sounds out of place though." 

JD chimed in, "I think the computer would have even picked up something small like a rowboat. He's got the most amazing algorithm for sound analysis."

"So we know that Carasco and the guns are aboard the boat. Along with Ramirez and a total of eight other men," Chris said, his voice getting the edge that Vin knew meant he was focusing everything on the operation. 

"And Melina Morales," Allen said, "We can't forget her." 

Murray put his hand on Allen's shoulder and said, "I'm sorry, Cody. There's no sign of her even on the...bug." His eyes shifted and he looked away from Chris when he mentioned it, as though he was embarrassed to mention it. Probably was, since they still stood in danger of being arrested for it. 

Ryder turned and slapped the edge of the doorway, venting frustration Vin could see clearly on his face. 

"So was that what you called us down here for?" Chris asked. 

"Oh, no. Sorry," Murray said. "Both sets of mics picked up a phone call this morning. It's clearer from the bug."

"Give me the harbor mics," Chris said, after a second spent thinking. "It's better if we do this without relying on, or even using, the illegal information." 

Murray sat down next to JD and flipped a couple of switches and pressed a button. Even scratchy and distorted by the computer, Vin recognized Carasco's voice, saying, "I've got your merch...move it tonight...agreed three mil...can find it...after sunset...pleasure cruise." 

Chris pursed his lips and his jaw tightened and, before he could explode, Vin said, "I ain't sure how that's going to help us, Murray. We didn't get a location or a time."

"That's on the next bit, hang on," JD said as he reached across Murray and pressed another button. "This is still the harbor mics." 

Carasco's voice was clearer now as he said, "Farouk gave me coordinates," as Carasco gave the numbers Chris and Ryder both pulled out notebooks and wrote them down, similar concentrated scowls on their faces. "Says we're to take a sunset cruise out there and meet him at 9:30 tonight." 

"You're positive this is the harbor mic," Chris said. Murray and JD both nodded, and Chris went on. "I'm not sure even that's completely legal, but we'll let the prosecutors sort that out. JD find out everything you can about Farouk. Go back to the hotel if you need your computers."

JD snorted a laugh that made Chris's eyes narrow. "My computers can't do half what these can," he said, with a mixture of envy and pride in his voice. 

"Except get into the ATF's system," Chris said.

Murray looked for a second as though he was going to say something, but changed his mind and pulled up a second chair from another desk and sat down at a second computer next to JDs. 

Obviously frustrated with all the talking, Allen took the notebook out of Ryder's hand and ran up the stairs, Chris and Ryder hard behind him. 

At the door, Vin stopped and said, "Let us know if the Estrella moves or anything comes up on the mics." JD nodded and waved without turning his head. "JD, harbor mics only, kid. Best if we all stay away from the poison tree there. Don't want to give the defense lawyers anything to work with." 

JD settled the headphones on and waved again, dismissing Vin. 

***

Upstairs, Chris, Josiah, Ezra, Ryder, and Allen were all hovering over the charts spread on the table. Buck stood by the windows, gazing out across the harbor. On the other side of the room, Nathan was lying down on the sofa, and Vin was reminded that he and Buck, and all of the private investigators, had been up all night on the Ebbtide, making sure that the Estrella went to ground where she belonged. 

Vin ambled over, giving the charts barely a glance before deciding that they weren't going to mean much to him anyway. He picked up a copy of the Estrella's plans instead and leaned against the wall next to the coffee machine, steaming in the corner, and tried to determine where the guns might be stored, and where the missing woman might be. 

He looked up again when Chris, voice carrying the weight of decision, said, "We're going to need the Coast Guard. Ezra, you and Josiah go and coordinate with them. Give them everything we've got." He looked at Cody, who was still studying the map, then went on, "Except the illegal bug. We want them there, but out of sight, no running lights even." 

Adjusting the hang of his coat as he stood so that it flowed smoothly over the holsters at armpit and waist, Ezra said, "They won't be well pleased by this, Mr. Larabee. They will expect us to make use of their resources rather than those of the Riptide Agency." 

"I have faith in your powers of persuasion, Ezra. If you need to, get Travis to talk to them. And if they won't listen to him keep working your way up the chain. I don't much care how you do it, but we need them at these coordinates," Chris checked the chart and scribbled something on a notepad then checked it again before handing the paper to Josiah. "And we need them there at," Chris checked his watch, "2100, no lights, waiting on our signal."

Josiah nodded his head and Ezra gave a sketchy salute, then they walked out. 

Allen stood straight up, rolling tension out of his shoulders and moved aside to let Ryder get a better look. Ryder studied the chart for a minute, then stood with a grin. "You realize this means the Mimi? The Huey won't have the range we need." 

Allen groaned, though there was a smile hiding under the edges of his mustache, and Vin got the impression that this was a familiar and comfortable tease, like Buck ragging on JD's eating habits. Curious, Vin said, "The Mimi?" 

Ryder was practically beaming when he turned to Vin, his face as transformed and beautified by a smile as Chris's was. "It's a Sikorsky H-34T. She's a real classic chopper, served us well for a long time." 

Allen stroked his mustache and said, "Served us well, except for all the times the pistons were broken or the engine seized or the hydraulics stopped working." Looking over at Chris he raised his hands, "She's never let us down when we needed her, though, and she's got enough fuel on board to get out there and circle around for..." He looked to Ryder.

"An hour, hour and a half maybe if the engines are as good as they were last time. And there's Sutil Island right there if I have to land," Ryder said, still obviously pleased.

Chris studied the chart again and pursed his lips in thought, then said. "Okay. One man in the chopper with Ryder. I want Nathan on the boat in case someone gets hurt," Chris said. He turned to Buck, who was staring out the window with the quivering tension of a hunting dog on point. "Buck, it's between you and JD." 

Buck turned slowly away from the window toward Allen, an awed look on his face, and said, "Hell, I see why you all live here, boys. Those girls available?" 

Vin looked out the window in the direction Buck had been staring. Just a few yards away across a channel there was a large sailboat with a dozen beautiful young men and women working on it, polishing the wood and brass. Vin snorted and said, "Buck, you dog, those girls're too young for you. Hell, a couple of 'em look like they're too young for JD."

Ryder and Allen exchanged smiling glances, then Allen said, "That boat's a fortress, Agent Wilmington, and it's guarded by a dragon named Maxine. And she also runs the hotel you're staying at. I wouldn't advise getting on her bad side by messing with her crew." 

Ryder went on, "Anyway, we tried for years with no luck. Finally decided to give up and just enjoy watching."

Buck shook his head, a look of sympathy on his face, "I bet you boys just didn't have the right approach. Ladies like that take a special touch. And ol' Buck's got it."

Tuning out Buck's boasts of his prowess, Vin looked out again, head ducked to hide his eyes. The young men working on the other boat were all of the slender, bronzed and sinewy type with sunbleached long hair and he let himself appreciate the view for a moment.

Until Chris snapped, "Buck, chopper or boat?" Vin's eyes were drawn to Chris and the boys on the other boat suddenly paled in comparison to the lean, chiseled man in front of him. 

"Well, now that depends," Buck said slowly, either ignoring or unaware of the irritated gleam in Chris's eyes. "How long do I have before we go?"

Allen checked the charts again then his watch, and said, "I'd like to get in the area before they do, maybe anchor off Sutil Island and pretend we're fishing." Chris nodded, so he went on, "That means we have to leave in three hours."

Ryder grinned and said, "Chopper doesn't have to leave for five."

Buck opened the door and, as he stepped out, said, "Chopper." He turned to Ryder, "Come find me when it's time for us to take off. I'll be on that boat." He pointed to the large sailboat and walked out the door.

A few minutes after Buck left, Chris said, "Mr. Ryder, Mr. Allen..."

He was interrupted by Allen waving his hand and shaking his head. "Look, we're working together. Can we just use first names?" 

Chris responded with a small smile, just a quirk of his lips and said, "Yeah. That sounds good. Nick and Cody, you two were up all night. Get some rest while you've got the chance." He gestured to Nathan, snoring softly on the other side of the room. "Nate's setting a good example." 

Cody nudged Nick with his shoulder and said, "You'll sleep longer if you go to the hotel. Maybe you can crash in one of their rooms." 

Nick shook his head. "I'll sleep better here." 

"What about Murray?" Vin asked, remembering that he'd been awake all night too. 

"We'll take care of Murray," Nick said, an edge to his voice.

His hand on Nick's shoulder, Cody said, "He'll be okay. He does this sometimes, gets caught up in a case and stays up for a couple of days. He'll crash when we've got Melina Morales safe."

Not touching, but still moving in synch with one another, the two walked down the stairs that led to the back of the boat, past the galley and on down. Vin tilted his head and watched for a second, but turned away before they reached the bottom of the stairs. He wasn't about to make it his business how many bedrooms the Riptide had and how the men who lived there arranged themselves among them. 

****  
"Murray, Agent Dunne," Cody's sudden appearance in the room startled Murray and he jumped. "We're casting off in half an hour. We've got pizzas upstairs," next to Murray, JD dropped the headphones onto the desk and jumped to his feet, "and we need what you've got for Nick and the guys who are riding with the Coast Guard." 

Murray gathered up some papers and followed up the stairs. By the time he was in the salon, JD was already attacking the pizza and he smiled, remembering being young like that. 

Vin was standing in the corner by the coffee machine when he walked into the room, the spot he appeared to have adopted for himself. Murray got the sense that he liked to be on the edge of the crowd but not quite part of it, alone but watching everything. Almost wary, it seemed, and Murray wondered what kind of life the he must have had to be that reserved, even among his friends. 

"What have you got, JD?" Chris asked, just as the young man took a bite of his pizza. 

JD's eyes widened and he held up his hand, asking for a moment, so Murray stepped forward. "Well, Benjamin Mohammed Farouk has been trading drugs for weapons for Iraq for years. He's just recently started dealing for the Palestinians as well. I don't know what weapons have been stolen." Chris looked at JD with a pleased crinkle in his eye that made JD duck his head and smile. "But, twenty crates going for three million dollars tells me these aren't garden variety machine guns. And Farouk wouldn't bother with those anyway, he's...well, he's pretty bad." 

JD swallowed and said, "I should have remembered this guy's name, Chris. Remember that case a couple of years ago where the DC office took down a high-level middleman, Burchart? They'd been going for the buyer but didn't get him. After the takedown, over the next couple of months, everyone in that organization was killed one by one? The buyer was Farouk and they think he was behind the killings. They just managed to get their undercover agent out in time."

Chris nodded, as did Standish, who said, "I recollect that case. I had an opportunity to speak to Harrison, the undercover agent, at a conference last year. He said everyone in Burchart's organization was intimidated by Farouk even Burchart himself. Everything for the buy was arranged to the last detail, then, when the ATF team moved in, Farouk just disappeared, leaving Burchart holding everything, and his lieutenants dropping one by one. Farouk hasn't been active, at least not in the US, since then."

"Well, maybe Carasco and Ramirez aren't as smart as Burchart's men, because there's nothing on the harbor mics to indicate that they're not just going out for a pleasure cruise tonight. They're packing bait and fishing rods," JD said. 

"Carasco's playing outside his league, that's for certain," Nathan said, "He's always been small-time up to now. Maybe he doesn't know this Farouk's reputation." 

After a moment's though, Chris made a humming noise and nodded decisively. "You're sure," Chris said, hazel-green eyes boring into Murray's, "that the guns are still on that boat?" 

Murray swallowed hard, thinking that the federal agents must be awfully damned tough to face down that stare every day. "There's no sign on the cameras of them offloading anything onto the pier and none of the microphones picked up any sounds like heavy lifting. Not after the boxes were on board," Murray said, then shrugged. "I mean, I can't be positive, they could have carried them across the Estrella and onto another boat that we couldn't see last night. They could have dropped the boxes overboard. But I think they're there and I'm willing to risk Nick and Cody and myself on it." 

Nick stepped forward and put his hand on Murray's shoulder. "If he's wrong you can arrest us for that illegal bug. All of us," he said with a smile. 

Chris said, "I will." Murray wished he thought the man was joking. 

To break the silence that followed that comment, Cody asked, "I don't suppose you were able to get anything on Farouk's boat." 

Murray shook his head, "Sorry, Cody. He's not registered as the owner of a boat, at least not under that name, anywhere in the world. It could be anything."

Cody shook his head. "Well, we know it's got to be big enough to haul 20 crates of guns, which eliminates something ultra-fast like the Ebbtide. So we still have the edge there." 

Chris turned to Standish and said, "How are you and Josiah doing with the Coast Guard, Ezra?" 

Ezra smiled and Murray caught a flash of gold tooth. "They'll be in location at the appointed time. Two boats, including a cutter, no lights."

"Travis?" Vin asked from the corner.

Ezra's grin widened and he said, "You underestimate me, Mr. Tanner." Vin smiled in return, then Ezra checked his watch. "I must return to the station, I'd hate to miss the festivities and they said they won't wait for me if I'm late." 

Chris waved him away, saying, "Good job. We'll see you out there." After Ezra left, Chris turned back to JD, saying, "Anything else, JD?"

"We're waiting on Ramirez's phone records, they should come while we're on the way. The Boz has this awesome satellite connection, he can get online anywhere, even the middle of the ocean," JD said, and Murray knew what Vin meant that morning when he said JD sounded like he was bragging about relatives, though Murray had the feeling that he'd been supplanted by his computers in the young agent's estimation. 

"Nothing on the harbor mics?" Chris asked.

JD shook his head, "I've been monitoring them. Ramirez's men don't seem to get along with Carasco's, and apparently with Carasco's five men aboard sleeping quarters are tight and tempers are a little frayed. Nothing useful."

Chris leaned back in the seat and surveyed the room, his gaze taking in even Cody and Nick, which pleased Murray. "That's all we've got?" A round of silent nods answered his question and he went on, "Okay. Let's ride then." 

Cody said, "Okay, casting off in ten minutes. If anyone's going to need Dramamine there's some in the medicine cabinet in the forward head. Now's the time." 

No one moved, for which Murray was profoundly grateful, it was always miserable having someone get seasick aboard.

Nick caught Murray's eye, then Cody's and walked out onto the pier. Murray followed and the three of them walked away from the boat slowly, shoulder to shoulder. At the end of the pier, Nick stopped and put his hand on each of their shoulders. "You be careful, okay? Remember, we just want the girl. Let Larabee and his men deal with Farouk. I don't like the sound of him." 

"We'll be careful. And you watch yourself in the Mimi. If you have any engine trouble at all, head to Sutil Island, we can pick you up there and go back for your chopper," Cody said. He glanced around, then with a deep sigh, squeezed Nick's shoulder. "Bye." 

Murray felt the same frustration he could see on Cody's face, and Nick's, the desire to give more than a simple handshake or shoulder squeeze. Normally they had at least the privacy afforded by the boat, enough that they could share a kiss before sending one or all of them off into danger. But not here on the pier, with the ATF agents possibly watching them. He bumped Nick with his shoulder, and said, "If all goes well, we'll celebrate tomorrow, just the three of us." 

***

A couple of hours after they were underway, Vin was at the dining table, his Sig-Sauer spread out in front of him. Any operation had a lot of hurry up and wait, and cleaning his gun helped him keep his focus during the down times. Chris sat at the other end of the L-shaped bench seat, head back against the wall, eyes closed. 

Eyes focused on his work, Vin said, "It ain't much of a plan." 

Without opening his eyes, Chris responded, "Too many unknowns. We're just going to have to stay focused on getting Farouk and the guns and deal with obstacles as they come up." 

"Wish we'd had more lead time, been able to get Ezra into Carasco's organization," Vin said, then shook his head. "But people in Hell wish for ice water too, I reckon." 

Chris was about to say something, when Murray came up the stairs from the computer room. He gave a little wave then headed for another set of stairs up. Chris said, "Everything okay, Mr. Bozinsky?" 

Murray stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pushed up his glasses. "Something I need to let Cody know about, that's all," he said, fidgeting. 

Tilting his head, Vin noticed a small recorder in Murray's left hand, and said, "Mics pick up something?" 

"Not the harbor mics," Murray said, "so you probably don't want to know about it." 

"JD?" Chris asked, voice just sharp enough for Vin to notice it.

"No, he's reviewing the phone records that just came through. The Estrella cast off about twenty minutes ago, so there's nothing on the harbor mics. This is from the..." His voice trailed off. "I really don't think you want to know about it, Agent Larabee, from what you and Vin have said. But Cody needs to know." 

Chris pursed his lips and Vin could see his clenched fist resting on the seat between them. "I'll come up. We may not be able to use it to make our case, but I don't want any surprises when we get out there." 

Vin set down his gun, but Chris put his hand on Vin's just for a second, and said, "Finish what you're doing. If we hit a swell it could send something flying." 

Vin laughed. "Hell, I can always use the mare's leg if this gets busted. It's down in the computer room." 

With a sharp glance, Chris said, "I thought you left that in the hotel room." 

"I ain't trusting that gun to a lock a one-handed six-year old could crack," Vin said, smiling. "It's fine down in the computer room, Murray says so." 

For some reason, that made Chris growl and he followed Murray up the stairs without another word. 

Vin shook his head as he watched them go, wondering what had gotten under Chris's skin so bad. 

He let his hands take over the familiar work, thinking about the men he worked with, the family they'd made together. Brothers all of them, with all the squabbling and bitching that went along with that. Wasn't one of them he wouldn't risk his life for, he knew that. 

And he knew that what he felt for Chris went far beyond what he felt for the others. Buck was his brother as surely if they'd been born from the same womb, but Chris was his...what was closer than blood kin? Course, he thought, as he cleaned the barrel with the small brush, blood kin weren't always all that close. But he knew he'd be close to Chris no matter what came. Even if he left Denver, left the ATF, gave up his job and his guns and got a different life than any he'd ever known, even if he never saw Chris again, Chris'd be right there in Vin's heart, a little piece of it his whether he wanted it or not. 

He thought Chris felt the same way. Certainly when they met in that filthy alley a year before, both in pursuit of the same fleeing criminal, he'd seen on Chris's face the same shock of recognition he felt. But it wasn't something you could just ask about. Not your best friend. Especially not your boss.

He tried to imagine that conversation, how he'd even approach Larabee about the connection he felt, so much deeper and richer than kinship and entirely outside Vin's experience. Tried to imagine it, but simply couldn't. Couldn't imagine how to put into words what he felt. Couldn't imagine risking Chris's reaction even if he could. 

Shaking the notion out of his head, Vin pulled the deck plan of the Estrella close so he could look it over while he worked. Engrossed in his two tasks, he was startled when Chris sat down next to him, saying, "Carasco's planning on giving the girl to Farouk." He set a coffee cup down on the table next to Vin and kept one in his own hand. 

Vin set down the Sig, so he could focus his whole attention on Chris's words. "White slavery ain't his line, what the hell's up?" He took a sip of coffee.

Chris took a deep breath, then said, "Bozinsky heard it on the bug. It wasn't entirely clear, but it sounded like they were supposed to have gotten more guns from Fort Carson, 22 crates instead of 20. Carasco's hoping the girl will appease Farouk. Ramirez's men took her as soon as Carasco had the guns." 

"Jesus," Vin swore softly, "was he able to sort out where she's being held on the boat?" 

"Best guess is the crew quarters in the back." 

Vin pushed the deck plan to Chris and pointed. "There's a large room for the captain, two smaller rooms for the crew. And a crew galley and lounge. Each of them rooms has its own bathroom. It's got to be a maze down there," he said. He picked the Sig up and went back to work with more speed, suddenly anxious to have his firearm back in working order. "And look, you can't get to the crew quarters from the main living quarters without going upstairs and back down again. These spiral stairs here," he tapped the page with the end of the brush, are the only ones that go down there." 

Chris studied the plans in silence. "They said earlier that sleeping space was short, right?" When Vin nodded, he went on, "That means they're not storing the crates in one of the staterooms. There's probably no spare space in the engine room which means they're either stacked in the salon, or they're here in this equipment room near the galley." 

Vin thought silently for a few minutes, finishing his task. With a final check of the gun, he holstered it and said, "I hate this whole setup, Chris. Sightlines are shit all around these boats, we don't know what we're up against, we got that hostage to mind. The main deck's completely covered, and got walls they can hide behind. There's this skybridge thing up on the very top where their men can stand and pick us off when we try to board and I ain't going to be able to shoot them from down below unless they're stupid enough to break cover." 

Chris pursed his lips, deepening the notch in them, and Vin gave himself the momentary pleasure of staring, only jerking his eyes away when he felt Chris's eyes on him. 

To cover his distraction, Vin went on, "Everyone on the team's used to an eye in the sky watching their backs, and I ain't gonna be able to do that this time" His voice showed his frustration as he said, "Should've sent me with the Coast Guard. Josiah'd be more help here, he could start talkin' to them about the evil of their ways and get them all to surrender."

Chris put his hand on Vin's shoulder. "Way I figure it, you and me and JD will round up Farouk and Carasco and Ramirez and their boys while Allen and Nathan go find the girl." 

Vin nodded and closed his eyes. After a minute he said, "What about Murray?" 

Chris grunted. "Non-combatant. He stays on the Riptide. Says they've got some infrared scanners that will help us track them as they move. He'll be monitoring." After a few minutes of silence, Chris said, "I heard what you said to Bozinsky this morning." Vin winced, but Chris went on, "You okay?" 

Vin considered the question, what Chris wanted to know and what he needed to hear. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got to thinking in what-if's for a minute. Too little sleep and no coffee'll do that." 

While it didn't say everything, the answer was true enough. He hadn't even thought of walking away from his career or his training, not since Somalia. Not until he found himself realizing how different things might have been for him if he'd had friends like Nick and Cody then. Wondering even more if the friends he had now would understand. 

Chris sat still for a moment after Vin answered, looking at him out of just the corners of his eyes. Unnerved by the scrutiny, Vin went on, "I'm good, Chris. Ain't getting soft or sorry now. I know my job." 

Moving his hand from Vin's shoulder to the back of his neck, Chris said, "You wouldn't be here if you didn't. But I'd support you if you wanted to stop." His thumb stroked softly along the underside of Vin's jaw, awakening a thrum of pleasure in the tender skin. 

Vin froze, hoping to still his heart and his breathing, uncertain whether to push Chris away or pull him closer. Uncertain what the touch meant, if, indeed, it meant anything at all. Chris leaned over and spoke softly, his breath warm on Vin's cheek, in his hair, "This isn't the time to talk about it, but after we've got Carasco and Farouk and the guns, we can." 

Vin nodded, swallowed hard, and asked, "Talk about what, cowboy?" He was whispering, like watching the sunset over the mountains, like in church, like something special was going on. He only wished he knew what it was.

Chris brushed his thumb across Vin's cheek, the touch electric, warming, and said, "I think there's a lot of things we need to talk about, Vin. But they can all wait until we're back in Denver." 

Vin nodded, swallowing his frustration. He didn't reckon that asking for a hint would do the slightest bit of good. But damn it, it was hard not knowing if he was going to be kicked off the team for going soft, lectured, reprimanded, maybe fired altogether. Though none of that squared with the softness of Chris's touch, the gentle, almost possessive grip on the back of his neck, the offer of support.

Chris moved away, just a foot or so, but Vin was conscious of the loss of his warmth, suddenly chilled despite the summer day. He raised the coffee cup, almost forgotten in his hand, to his mouth with jerky movements and took a sip, then looked at Chris out of the corner of his eyes. Chris was looking at him, a smile turning up the corner of his mouth but softness in his eyes that Vin didn't reckon many people at all got to see. 

Vin ducked his head, feeling more uncertain than he ever had. He didn't really think Chris meant that look the way Vin hoped he did. They were both tired and strung out, Chris even more than him maybe. It must have made him careless, loose. But when he turned to look, Chris still had that almost-shy smile on his face. Vin smiled back and nodded, saying, "Okay. We'll talk later." 

Before Chris could answer Murray came down into the room, saying, "We have an idea to bounce off you guys. Can you come up?" 

They followed Murray up the stairs, Vin pushing all thought of his conversation with Chris out of his mind. No matter what Chris had or hadn't meant by that touch, that look, he was absolutely right that now wasn't the time to be thinking about it. Not with 20 crates of guns destined for Palestine or Iraq on the Estrella De Mar. Not with a woman's life in the balance. 

***

Cody pointed to the chart on the navigation table next to him as they walked up, "The Estrella's right on course for the coordinates. Right on time too. If she maintains course and speed she'll get there about thirty minutes before he's due to meet Farouk. We'll be in place about two hours before."

"Good," Chris said, studying the charts. "What was your idea?" 

"Actually, it was Murray's idea," Cody said, gesturing to Murray. 

Murray cleared his throat and said, "What if we got the girl out of there first, before they met up with Farouk? It would keep them from having a hostage, and we could possibly disable some of their men before they even thought to be looking for us." 

"How do you suggest we do that?" Chris asked, challenging.

Murray swallowed and looked away, then said, "You and Cody could swim over there." He took a deep breath. "We can't approach it with engines because there's no way they wouldn't hear, but if you two were diving, under water, you could slip onto the fantail and down the stairs straight to the crew quarters. I could row over in the Zodiac to bring her back."

"What makes you think I can dive?" Chris asked, voice hard.

Murray gave a big smile and said, "You were a SEAL, of course you can dive. Cody was an MP. Not the same sort of training you got, but he can dive and you two can do this. Maybe even disable some of Ramirez's men. Even the odds some." 

Chris scowled. "You've been checking up on us?" 

"You're surprised?" Cody asked, challenging. 

To Murray's shock, Chris laughed. "Okay. I'd've done the same thing." 

Murray was surprised that the biggest objection to his plan came from Vin rather than from Chris. Vin turned to his boss, saying, "Larabee, remember what I said about sightlines and being picked off from the skybridge. This is just asking for that." He took the deck plans out of his pocket. "Looks like you'll have ten, fifteen feet of exposed deck to cross. Good shooter'd get two, maybe three shots at you. And could do it without ever exposing himself to return fire." 

Eyes fixed on the horizon, Cody said, "That's the beauty of going over before their meeting with Farouk. We'll be on and have Melina Morales off before they've even thought to put their guard up." 

Vin didn't even turn to look at him, just focused on Chris, eyes narrowed. Their eyes locked, neither man blinking or looking away for long enough that Murray felt his own eyes water. He didn't know what they were seeing in each other's faces, but the air between them practically vibrated with electricity.

Murray wasn't sure how long had passed before Vin pressed his lips together hard then looked down, saying, softly, "Hell." He turned to Murray and said, "We gonna be close enough to use that infrared thing you mentioned, at least?"

"We?" Murray asked, surprised by the sudden change in gears.

"Yeah, I'm gonna be on the...what'd you call it, the Zodiac? Sounds like some damn poofy star crap. Anyway I'm going to be there with you," Vin said, looking back at Chris, a challenge in his posture. Chris nodded slightly and Vin went on, eyes still on Chris, "We've got the wires down in the living room. You're going to be wearing one." Chris blinked a nod and Vin nodded in response then turned to look at Cody. "You too, Cody." 

When Cody nodded, Vin turned to Murray. "So are we going to be able to use the infrared to keep tabs on them?"

Murray nodded slowly. "Sure, yeah, it's hand-held. But I can do that," he started, but Vin looked away with such a pained expression he fell quiet. 

Vin looked down, hiding his eyes behind a screen of hair, then said, "I'm going," in a tone of flat determination. He raised his head again, "Show me how to use this gear of yours. You've got three hours to make me an expert." 

***

Down in the computer room, Vin leaned against the wall. His posture looked relaxed, but his mouth was a tight line and his arms were crossed over his chest, defensive and tense. JD'd taken one look at him, then excused himself with a muttered word about needing to talk to Chris. Murray looked at Vin again, even angry he didn't seem nearly as intimidating as Larabee, obviously JD knew something Murray didn't.

Murray pulled out the plastic bin labeled "Infrared Gear" and set it down on the cot, which was cluttered with computer parts, papers, and books. He took out the scanner, white, boxy and about the size of a bullhorn and held it out to Vin, saying, "Are you okay, Vin? I mean, Chris has seemed kind of, I don't know, sour since we talked. He's not mad about that is he?"

Vin shook his head, some of the tension easing out of his pose and gave a small smile. "Larabee gets that way sometimes. It's the operation." He took the device from Murray's hand, checking it over.

"It must be hard to work with him, having to walk on eggshells all the time," Murray said, not really thinking about his words. 

Vin bristled at them though, and snarled, "Ain't hard. Got a bit of a temper, sure, but he's the best agent I've ever met." His voice was clipped and hard. Murray stepped back reflexively, startled by the sudden vehemence, but before he could apologize, Vin went on, voice softer, "Damn, Murray, I'm sorry. I'm just a mite wound up myself. Guess the operation's getting to me too."

Murray nodded and said, "Happens to Nick too. It's okay. And I shouldn't have said anything about Chris." He wondered about the relationship between the two men, for just a second, since it was obvious they were more than friends. He might have guessed that they were lovers, from the silent argument they'd had in the wheelhouse if nothing else, except that they didn't have the physical ease with each other he'd expect if that were the case. He wondered if they wanted to be, each of them wrapping his own desires up in denial, as he'd done with his feelings for Cody and Nick before they'd finally taken a chance on asking him into their relationship. 

He leaned over and flipped the switch on the scanner, then said, "I really can do this. We don't both need to be on the Zodiac." 

Holding the scanner like a gun, Vin pointed it up toward the salon, eyes on the monitor. His eyes widened and Murray guessed he was seeing the infrared image of one of the other men. But his voice didn't show any of that, when he said, "I ain't letting Chris go without backup."

"Hey, Cody'll be there, and Cody's good. He'll watch..." Murray said, defending his friend and lover against the slight.

Vin held up his hand. "I know. I didn't mean no offense. But if the two of them run into trouble, someone needs to be there to get them out. You'll have your hands full with the boat and the girl." Murray nodded, accepting Vin's words. Vin relaxed just a little then aimed the scanner upwards toward the deck. He chuckled. "Looks like Nate's getting some sun. So how many walls can this thing see through?" 

After that they settled down to making Vin an expert with the scanner, getting readings through walls and decks. After they anchored, he even got some readings through the water, insisting on knowing everything that might be of help. Murray offered to let him read the machine's manual, though he warned that with his own modifications to the equipment the manual wasn't exactly accurate, but Vin just shook his head, saying, "Learn it better by using it anyway, if you don't mind sticking with me." 

While they were working on that, all of the men on the boat conferred about their plan, making some modifications based on input from the others. When things went down Murray'd be in the wheelhouse monitoring their communications and manning the radio that would summon the Coast Guard and the helicopter. Nate would be in the Zodiac with Vin, so he could care for the girl as soon as they had her safely out of enemy hands. JD would be in the Ebbtide, ready to round up Farouk and his men as soon as the guns changed hands. It'd taken the young agent a while to convince Cody that he could handle the Ebbtide, but eventually even Cody'd been satisfied that his baby would be in good hands. 

***

"Chris, Cody," Vin whispered in to the wire, watching the monitor on the infrared scanner, "there's someone lying down near you, just a couple feet toward the back of the boat. Body temperature's low. Could be someone sleeping, could be the girl." Vin's whisper was barely audible, even to himself. Murray had set the microphones to pick up the slightest sounds, so that Chris and Cody only had to mouth words to be heard. Silence was key to this operation and even though Murray had promised that the ear pieces and the mics were focused and extremely sensitive, Vin wanted to take no chances, not with Chris' life on the line.

Fifteen minutes earlier, Cody and Chris had gone aboard the Estrella from the lower deck, the fantail people kept calling it, and slipped down the spiral stairs to the crew quarters almost unnoticed, securing their diving gear in a net slung out of sight on the outside of the boat in case they needed it to get back to the Riptide. JD'd provided a distraction, zooming around in the speedboat kicking up spray and doing stunts on the far side of the Estrella, drawing eyes in that direction while Nathan and Vin rowed over in the inflatable Zodiac motorboat, giving Cody and Chris time to find Melina Morales before they arrived. They were now tied loosely to the railing at the back of the Estrella, hidden from view by shadowed darkness and the overhanging slope of the boat's side. 

Nathan and Vin were dressed entirely in black, Vin's face obscured by grease paint and his hair tucked under a stocking cap. They'd even covered the Zodiac itself with a black tarp to hide the silver sides. Their plan was that they'd be able to hide in the darkness and the shadows, at least for the brief time they needed to get the girl off the Estrella. 

The Riptide was anchored out of sight behind a large pile of rocks just off the shore of Sutil Island. Cody said it had a name, Somethin' Island, but to Vin it just looked like rocks. Rocks and sea lions, though in the darkness it was impossible to tell one from the other. At least until one of the sea lions moved and jostled a neighbor, setting up a clamor that lasted for a minute or so until they all settled again. 

The only response to Vin's message was two quick taps on the line and Vin knew he'd been heard. The two green shapes on his screen moved until their images were overlaying the lighter green image. There was a flurry of movement then Cody said, "We're bringing her out now." 

"How is she?" Nathan asked softly, his voice, faint as it was, showing his concern.

"Doesn't look good, Nate," Chris said, softly, "She's been beaten, maybe worse."

"JD, time for more of those tricks, kid. We need everyone's attention on you while they get her off," Vin said, redirecting the scanner toward the stairs and the decks, looking for anyone who might be a threat.

"Might be difficult, guys," JD said, "I can see another boat coming. Not as big as the Estrella. Maybe Farouk."

"A fishing yacht, Cody," Murray said. "I heard Carasco and Ramirez on the bug, they're pretty sure it's Farouk."

"There's someone on the stairs," Vin said, sharply, adrenaline coiling in his belly.

There was another clash of bright green pixels on the screen in front of him, and Vin held his breath when one of the figures collapsed into a heap on the floor until Chris murmured, "One of Ramirez's men. We're running out of time." The unconscious man was carried away and left, prone, near where the girl had been, probably on a bed. Then the other two, with the paler yellow-green figure between them, resumed their ghostly way up the stairs.

"You're clear on deck," Vin relayed, frustrated with the limited view he was getting. He didn't like not being at Chris' back, seeing things as they really were, not as some damned green video-game image. Especially now that things were starting to move, and too quickly.

Just a few seconds later Chris and Cody appeared for real out of the shadows, the girl supported between them. She was wearing a man's work shirt and, apparently, nothing else. Dirty blonde hair trailed around her shoulders, half-covering her face. They helped the girl onto the inflatable, Chris and Cody easing her into Nathan and Vin's careful hands. She collapsed in a shivering heap as far from Nathan and Vin as she could get on the small boat. 

Nathan, his voice gentle and calm, but still very quiet, said, "We're getting you to safety, Miss Morales. You're safe now." 

She nodded but didn't look up, just pulled the hem of her shirt down over her knees. Vin draped a black blanket over her shoulders and hair, covering her hair and her pale skin and blending her in with the rest of the shadows surrounding them. 

Chris and Cody looked toward each other then Chris said quietly but with unshakeable conviction, "We're staying. No sense going back to the Riptide and having to get aboard again." He untied the line that held the Zodiac to the Estrella and pushed it away with his foot. "Get her out of here." Nathan picked up the oars, looking expectantly to Vin to do the same thing.

Before he could even think about what he was doing, about what Chris was doing, Vin grabbed the scanner and leapt onto the Estrella. "I'm with you," he whispered sharply, in response to Chris's look. He offered an apologetic glance to Nathan who nodded, apparently understanding. 

They ran as quietly as possible for the cover of the overhanging upper deck while behind them Nathan rowed away, sticking to the shadow of the boat for as long as he could before heading out into the slightly less dark night toward the rocks and the waiting safety of the Riptide. "JD, keep up the distraction anyway, we don't want any eyes on the Zodiac," Chris muttered, once they'd taken a relatively safe position behind a couple of deck chairs on the main deck. 

"That's definitely Farouk," Murray said, his voice strained. "He's going to pull alongside. Get off the fantail and the main deck, Carasco just gave the order to move the guns out there." 

Their options were limited, Vin realized. They couldn't go down into the crew quarters, with only the one exit they'd be trapped. The salon and the dining room were one big, open space and, since they didn't know where the crates were, they didn't know where they could hide anyway. Vin pointed the scanner over their heads toward the open deck and skybridge above them. One man he could see, maybe more in the part of the deck his scanner wouldn't reach. He held up one finger to Chris then pointed at the staircase going up. Chris nodded and tapped Cody, giving the same sign. 

Vin took point up the stairs, keeping close to the inner spiral. At the top he popped his head up. The two men on the skybridge were looking in the other direction, thank God. One had a large spotlight trained on Farouk's approaching boat and the more distant one watched it approach. Neither of them was looking out for trouble from aboard their own vessel. Vin leaned down and held up two fingers. Chris nodded again, then shifted his eyes toward the right. Vin shook his head and tilted his head in that direction. The one on the right was further away and, since he was going to be the first one off the stairs he'd be a step or two ahead of Chris anyway, best if he went for the more distant one. Chris nodded.

Vin counted down, three fingers, two, one, then stepped out of the stairwell and quietly crossed to his opponent, sacrificing speed for silence. He was reassured by Chris hard at his back and by Cody, a couple of steps further behind. Before the man in front of him could do more than whirl around in shock, Vin'd knocked him out with a well-placed elbow to his temple. To his left Chris was as efficient with his own man, disarming and disabling him before he could raise a warning. 

"You have the right to remain silent," Vin said quietly to the unconscious man at his feet as he handcuffed the man's arms behind him. "We'll get to the rest when you wake up."

As Vin walked over to where Chris was manning the spotlight, keeping it trained on Farouk's boat, Cody gestured something to Chris, who nodded. Below them they could hear the bustle of movement; peering quickly over the edge, Vin spotted four of Carasco's men carrying wooden crates out to the fantail, one on each end of the heavy boxes. He breathed a sigh of relief; they'd apparently missed being exposed on the stairs by a matter of seconds. He crossed to Chris, then nodded at Cody's back as he went forward toward a set of stairs leading into a lit room. Chris covered his microphone and whispered in Vin's ear, "The wheelhouse. He's going for the Captain." 

Cody reemerged from the wheelhouse with a confused look on his face. When he got close to them, he said softly, "There was no one in there. We're at anchor, so maybe he's elsewhere, though you'd think they'd want to be able to make a quick getaway. Or he caught sight of you taking out the guards and slipped away down the inside stairs."

Vin scowled and nodded. "They go to the dining room," he murmured, calling up the picture of the plans he'd committed to memory, "right near the equipment room where we think the weapons are stored. If he went that way we're busted."

They listened for a moment, but heard nothing that indicated that men were being directed their way. Vin figured that most of the men on the Estrella were involved in hauling the guns or were distracted by the approach of Farouk's ship; a nameplate at the bow labeled it "Bluefin". It wasn't as sleek and beautiful as the Estrella, not as large either. Probably a smuggler's ship, and Vin hoped that the Ebbtide was as fast as Cody claimed. 

The three of them watched, clustered around the spotlight and taking advantage of the darkness behind it. They could see quite clearly what was happening, but it would be hard for anyone to see them with the spotlight dazzling their eyes. The parade of men carrying crates continued while Farouk's men tossed ropes across to Carasco and Ramirez. Ramirez shouted a command then, when there was no reply, took the ropes himself, tying them off on cleats on the side of the boat. When the boats were secured, a walkway was eased across the small gap between the lower decks on the two boats. 

Carasco greeted Farouk with an outstretched hand, which was ignored, and a wave in the direction of the crates, the last of which were being set out on the fantail.

"It's going down, boys," Chris said into the microphone. Murray'd somehow connected the wires they were using with the ones that Buck and Josiah and Ezra were wearing, even Nick would be able to hear through the choppers communications. Vin could almost hear the tension in all the men of his team at Chris's words, even though there was no chatter on the line. 

Below them, Carasco cracked open one of the crates with a crowbar and pulled a sleek weapon like something from a science fiction film out of it, brushing away bits of packing material as he handed it to Farouk. Farouk smiled and nodded, and waved forward one of his men who carried a black suitcase. Before the man could open the suitcase, however, Farouk's face turned ugly and he shouted, loud enough to be heard even on the upper deck, "You think you can make a fool of me?" 

Carasco raised his hands appeasingly and made a quick gesture to one of his men, who was obviously awaiting the order. The man trotted toward the main deck, obscured by the overhanging skybridge. Without taking his eyes from Farouk, Carasco walked forward, speaking softly as to a dangerous animal. Given Farouk's reputation, Vin admired his balls for even trying to make the switch with the man. His balls but not his brains.

"They're about to discover that the girl is gone," Chris said. "Shit."

"Where'd you leave that guy you took out?" Vin asked quietly.

"Under the covers on the Captain's bed," Cody said with a small smile. "Might stir up some trouble. Hell, he might have been the Captain." 

The man Carasco sent after the girl came trotting back to him a minute later and whispered urgently in his ear, his eyes never leaving Farouk. Carasco's eyes widened and his face went dark for moment, then he turned back to Farouk with an ingratiating smile on his face. Next to him, Chris whispered, "Wonder how he's going to get out of this one?"

Vin was so intent on what was happening below them on the fantail, that his first warning of immediate trouble came too late. He heard a step or felt a presence, he wasn't sure, and turned around quickly only to find a man only a foot away, gun drawn. 

At Vin's first movement, Chris turned as well, raising his hand not to his gun but to the microphone. But the gunman shook his head no and said, "Hands up," in a thick accent. Cursing his own stupidity, Vin raised his hands. Jesus, he thought to himself, if he was going to gawk like a rookie rather than minding their backs what the hell was he doing there anyway? Maybe Chris was right to think he was going soft and stupid.

Chris muttered a curse but complied. On his other side, Cody did as well. The gunman stepped forward and ripped the headsets from their heads one at a time, sending Vin's stocking cap flying at the same time, gun and eyes always trained on Vin. Vin fought the urge to rub his sore ear, and bemoaned the loss of any way to summon backup. He had to hope that if the others didn't hear anything for a few minutes they'd come charging in. Of course, a few minutes was more than enough time for the gunman, or Carasco, or Farouk himself to kill them. 

The gunman leaned toward the railing and called down, presumably to Carasco. Vin, fluent in street Spanish after years living in Denver's barrio district Purgatorio, translated without thought, " _Three strangers. Do I kill them?"_ Vin winced. 

He was only slightly reassured by Carasco's answer, _" Not yet. Bring them here."_

Vin leaned toward Chris and said, "Why wouldn't Carasco want us de...?" His question was cut off by a hard blow to the side of the head that left him reeling for a few seconds, his vision grey and blurry. 

When he came back to himself, there was another man next to the original gunman. He went along the line in turn, patting them down and taking their weapons, including the ones they'd taken from the men they'd disabled. He had quite an armful by the time he was done. He also took Vin's wallet and shield. 

"Put your hands behind your heads and keep them there. If you move, I'll shoot," the original gunman said in heavily accented English. With a gesture of his gun he indicated that they should go down the stairs to the main deck. 

Within a minute they were all three kneeling on the side of the fantail deck, backs against a sort of low wall, hands behind their heads. Vin kept his eyes on their guns as they were dumped on a table on the main deck. He mapped out the shortest route to their weapons, up the stairs hard to Chris's right or over the chest high wall depending on where the enemy was deployed, then turned his attention to Carasco, talking with Farouk. The gunman handed Vin's wallet and shield to Carasco.

Carasco walked over to them and barked, "Are there more of you?" 

Vin raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Carasco punched him twice in rapid sequence, one a hard blow to the same place the gunman had already hit, the other cutting the inside of Vin's cheek. Vin turned his head to the side and spit blood onto the pristine deck, and felt a trickle of it running down the side of his face, just at the edge of his hair. Carasco moved to hit him again and it was Cody who stopped him, saying, "No, just us. We're here doing recon." 

Chris, playing along with Cody's ruse, snapped, "Damn it, Allen. Why'd you tell him that?" 

Cody, either because he knew what Chris was doing, or because he was genuinely taken aback, looked down embarrassed. 

Carasco still didn't look quite convinced, so Vin slumped forward, sighed, and said, "Don't matter. Who the hell else could there be half-way across the fucking ocean? Ain't like I got a troop of Marines in my back pocket or nothin'." 

That sold the story, apparently, because Carasco made a satisfied grunt and went back to Farouk, waiting rather impatiently on the other side of the deck. He handed over Vin's wallet and badge to Farouk and the two squared off, apparently in negotiation, Carasco fighting hard not to show his desperation, and not succeeding all that well. 

After a few minutes of this talk, Farouk came toward them, Carasco trailing a few feet behind. Farouk looked Vin over with an appraising glance, head tilted, eyes lingering at chest and crotch, "So, you are a Federal Agent? You look too young." 

Familiar with looks like that, with the crawling feeling of being touched by someone's eyes, Vin clenched his jaw and said nothing. Experience, hard and painful, had taught him that the less he gave Farouk to respond to, the better off he'd be. Any response would feed the hunger he could see in Farouk's darkly glittering eyes. Sick fuck. 

"No comment?" Farouk said, a hard and amused smile on his face. "That is good, the quiet. If only you weren't with the ATF, I know someone who would like you very much. Youth is always so appealing, yes? And I would like for him to owe me a favor." He made a soft clucking noise and looked at the shield and ID again. 

Vin kept his eyes fixed on the man with the gun, refusing to give Farouk the pleasure of seeing any reaction in him at all. No reaction meant no control, and that was sure to piss him off. Chris at his side was still but poised, waiting, as Vin was, for the right moment to strike, but Vin could hear from his breathing, harsh and slow, that his anger was boiling. 

"Unfortunately," Farouk said, with another long, appraising look that, even seen from the corners of Vin's eyes, made his skin twitch, "you are with the ATF. Which means you are of less use to me. Though possibly you could be ransomed back to your agency." He tapped his lip with a long finger. "Most likely all three of you could, since your friends are undoubtedly with the ATF as well even though they do not identify themselves as such. And while I was waiting for my ransom, I could enjoy..." He thought for a second more, the hunger in his eyes more blatantly sexual now.

Startled, Carasco backed away a step when Farouk wheeled suddenly toward him. "I will give you two and a half million for the twenty crates and these three men." 

Stepping forward again, Carasco said, "The three of them should compensate for the loss of two crates, less than a tenth of the total shipment." His words were bold, but Vin could see him swallowing hard and the shaking in his hands as he spoke them. Definitely some brass balls on that man. 

Farouk's eyes snapped and blazed as he said, "You reject my generous offer? You who have tried to cheat me? I can take everything, guns, men, even this beautiful boat. How will you stop me?" He turned toward his men, but before he could give the command to fire, the quiet was broken by a commotion from above. A large pink helicopter dropped down toward them from the darkness, visible in the halo of light surrounding the Estrella and Bluefin, looking for a second like it was going to crash onto the fantail. The spotlight moved wildly from where it had been trained on the deck to rake erratically across the helicopter. 

"Son of a bitch," Vin said on an exhaled breath, stunned at the awful pink apparition, which had an open, screaming mouth painted on the nose.

Next to him, Chris said, with more force than Vin could muster, "What the hell's that?" All the men on deck, Farouk and Carasco included, were having the same reaction, staring at the chopper open-mouthed for a moment.

Vin thought he heard Cody, on Chris's other side, say something like, "Screaming Mimi" which didn't make a lot of sense, until he saw that open mouth on the pink chopper again. Maybe it did make sense after all.

During the silence, Buck Wilmington popped his head out of the helicopter's side hatch and said over a loudspeaker, "This is the ATF. Put down your weapons and get your hands up." 

His words snapped the gunmen out of their surprise and several of them raised their weapons and fired on the chopper, striking sparks off the metal. Buck ducked back behind the edge of the hatchway, popping out a few seconds later and shooting at the man who still held his rifle on the three prisoners. The gunman dropped with a groan, holding onto his shoulder. 

Before the man had even fallen, Chris was up, heading toward the stairs and their guns, Cody hard at his heels. Vin didn't get a chance to move before Farouk was in front of him, one hand tangled in Vin's hair pulling hard, the other holding a pistol against Vin's temple. He spat out some words in Arabic that Vin assumed were a curse. 

Before Farouk could fire though, the cavalry arrived in force. A spray of water jetted over the railing, dousing Carasco and Ramirez. JD popped up out of the Ebbtide's cockpit, throwing a line over a cleat with one hand and holding a gun on Carasco with the other. 

At the same time, Chris jumped down the stairs and knocked Farouk away from Vin with a shout and a vicious backhanded punch. As he fell backwards, Farouk's hand caught in Vin's hair, pulling hard enough to make his eyes water before finally ripping free with only a few long hairs lost. Chris stood between Vin and Farouk, who was staggering backwards toward where Josiah and the Coast Guard were gathering on the deck. Without looking around, Chris handed Vin his gun.

The deck was lit by the harsh glare of a spotlight coming from a new direction and a hard-edged woman's voice said, "This is the U.S. Coast Guard. Throw down your weapons and prepare to be boarded." Some of the gunmen complied, others held their guns and their ground. JD stepped aboard from the Ebbtide, and took Carasco's weapon, pushing him to his knees. 

After that there was a chaos of moving bodies as Coast Guard seamen crossed to the Estrella in force, Josiah and Ezra among them. The chopper overhead stirred up the air, adding more noise and confusion as hats and hair whipped in the prop-wash. A few shots were fired, but most of the men on the Estrella had been stunned by the rapid fire arrival of the Screaming Mimi and then the Coast Guard. 

Farouk's men were not so disoriented. Vin, watching over Chris's shoulder, saw one of them, still on the Bluefin raise his gun, taking aim on Josiah. Vin fired quickly over Chris's shoulder, dropping the man.

Farouk's men turned and fired on the Coast Guard, both on the Estrella and on the cutter, snapping Carasco's men out of their compliance and leading to a wild melee of flying bullets and shouting. Vin found a good position up on the main deck, behind the wall that separated it from the fantail. He thought Chris had followed him there, but when he turned back toward the fantail, Chris was walking through the crowd like he didn't think bullets could touch him, heading straight for Farouk, gun raised.

Jesus, Vin thought, heart clenching in his chest as he watched one of Farouk's men aiming his gun at Chris. Vin fired quickly then turned his attention to scanning for other potential hazards to his teammates, hardly even noticing as the man fell, his shirt stained black in the dim lighting. 

While Vin watched, two of Farouk's men grabbed Farouk by arm and shoulder and hauled him aboard the Bluefin then cut the lines holding it to the Estrella. The smaller boat sped away with a huge roar of engines. From the back of the boat, another engine started and Vin heard Cody yell, "Larabee, come on!"

Cody was moving the Ebbtide away from the back of the Estrella before he finished talking and Chris had to run across the deck at an angle to catch it, elbowing men from both sides out of his way. He dove onto the boat, landing with his legs hanging over the side, feet in the water. As soon as Chris'd pulled himself fully aboard, Cody pushed the engines hard and the boat took off in an incredible burst of speed, flying over the waves.

The men on the Bluefin, with the advantage of a higher deck, were firing down into the Ebbtide's open cockpit as the smaller boat followed. Vin ran along the narrow deck that went the length of the Estrella, firing on the men on the Bluefin. When the two boats were almost out of sight in the darkness, he saw Chris whirl and fall to the floor of the boat out of sight in the shadows.

Vin shouted, "Chris! NO!", his heart stuttering in shock and fear, refusing to accept what he'd seen. Or what he was afraid it meant. He knew the kind of damage a rifle shot could do, knew it all too well, and the darkness shrouding the Ebbtide kept him from seeing what exactly had happened so he was left to imagine the worst.

Vin looked around desperately. The second Coast Guard ship, a small coastal patrol boat, was on her way after the two speeding boats, but it didn't look as though she had a hope in hell of catching up. Back on the fantail it seemed as though things were quieting down as the Coast Guard and their own men were taking control of the situation.

Running back toward the rear of the boat, Vin caught Buck's eye as he watched over the situation from the helicopter, rifle at the ready. Vin gestured toward the escaping boats, shouting, "Go! Go! GO!!" 

Buck gave him a nod then disappeared into the dark interior of the chopper. The helicopter turned immediately, taking off after the boats, now at least half a mile away, visible only as points of light in the darkness. 

Vin could see flashes of gunfire in the distance, like fourth of July sparklers in the darkness, from the Ebbtide as well as the Bluefin. That meant Chris was alive and well enough to shoot, Vin told himself firmly, since surely Cody's whole attention was on piloting the boat, moving faster than Vin thought a boat could possibly go. The Mimi caught up with them after just a few minutes, a searchlight on the underside of her nose illuminating the scene, which was nearly a half-mile away, by Vin's best guess.

Something dropped from the cockpit of the helicopter through the beam of the searchlight, glittering as it fell, then smoke poured out of the Bluefin's wheelhouse, making unearthly shapes in the beam of light. The speeding boats slowed, finally, to a stop and the gunfire ended with a couple more exchanged shots. While Vin watched, the Coast Guard boat arrived at the Bluefin and in the light of the Mimi's spotlight Vin could see a unit of seamen board it and take control. 

When it was clear the situation had stabilized, the Mimi backed away. With one last circle over the Estrella, and a jaunty wave from Buck through the open hatch, the Mimi flew off into the darkness toward land.

After that there was nothing but sorting out how to transport Farouk, Carasco, Ramirez, their twelve surviving men, the injured girl, three corpses, six ATF agents, and two additional, crewless, boats back to port. Melina Morales and the two most injured combatants, one Coast Guard seaman and one of Farouk's men, travelled in relative comfort in the cutter's crew quarters, with Nathan taking care of them. The rest of the prisoners were divided between the two Coast Guard ships, with Ezra, Josiah, and JD keeping an eye on them, along with several seamen. 

Vin was never quite sure how it happened that he and Chris wound out aboard the Riptide with Murray and Cody. Oh, it was obvious that the Coast Guard ships had no more room available, even with some men going to pilot the Estrella and the Bluefin back to shore. Vin didn't question their good fortune too deeply, he didn't think he could have stood being in the crowded conditions on either of the Coast Guard boats for more than a few minutes.

***

A few minutes after they weighed anchor, Vin found Chris in the Riptide's salon. He slapped a first aid kit down on the table next to him and said, "Wetsuit off, cowboy. You may have hidden it from Nathan, but you can't hide from me." 

Chris jumped slightly, raising his head from the hand that had been supporting it. "Hid what?" he said, his voice challenging, despite the paleness of his face and the lines of tension around his mouth, probably from pain.

Vin moved like he was going to slap Chris on the arm he held in his lap, the black neoprene of the wetsuit he'd been wearing torn almost invisibly just in the meaty part of his bicep. When Chris flinched away, paling visibly, Vin nodded toward his arm, "That. I saw you get shot. Know it's there." He closed his eyes on the vision that had tormented him of Chris falling into the darkness, the fear of what he'd find when he saw him again. When he opened them again, Chris was looking at him curiously, that small sweet smile he'd seen earlier on the corner of his mouth again. 

After a moment, Chris stood and struggled with the wetsuit's shirt, wincing and grunting as it pulled on his injured arm. Vin stood and helped him, gently easing the clinging material down and off. A fat drop of blood was squeezed out of the spongy material as he worked, marking the carpet under their feet. Vin whistled when the wound was revealed, circular and angry and still seeping blood. He tilted his head and looked at the back of Chris's arm, saw the larger and more ragged hole there. "Through and through. Should've got Nate to look at it," he said, firmly, though even through his fears for Chris he could see that it wasn't too bad.

"If I was gonna bleed out, I'd've been dead by the time I got to him," Chris said with a forced chuckle, his voice tight with pain. 

Pushing away the thought, hard, Vin said, "Ain't something to joke about." His voice only shook a little, which both surprised and pleased him, but Chris didn't seem to notice. 

Vin helped Chris ease the wetsuit the rest of the way off, leaving him in a pair of trunks borrowed from Nick. He carried the wetsuit out to the deck and draped it over the chair next to Cody's. When he got back inside Chris was sitting again at the end of the bench seat, head propped up on his right hand, the injured arm held close to his side. Vin nudged him with his knee, "Scoot around to the other end, let me take a look. Then you can go downstairs and put your clothes back on." 

When Chris did so, Vin opened the first aid kit and went to work cleaning the wounds. The bleeding stopped quickly when he applied pressure, which satisfied his remaining concerns about the severity of the wound. He put on the antibiotic goop, then gauze bandages front and back, holding them on with tape wrapped tight enough to provide some pressure, but not too tight, checking Chris's fingers carefully to make sure that circulation was good.

He drew the process out for as long as he could, reluctant to lose the privilege of touching Chris, tending to him and caring for him, but aside from some torn up knuckles from punching Farouk, which Vin applied goop and gauze to, he was fine. Eventually Vin was forced to rock back on his heels and say, with as much of a smile as he could muster, "You're right. You'll live until we get you to a hospital. Got some Tylenol here that'll take the edge off 'til you can get fixed up proper and they give you some better pain pills."

Vin knew he should get some water for Chris so he could take the medicine, but was held fast by Chris's eyes, watching him closely, his eyes deep and dark even in the lit room. Chris reached with his good hand toward Vin, fingers ghosting over Vin's temple then up to his hairline. Vin winced and flinched away when Chris found the place the gunman and Carasco had both hit him. 

Chris looked at his fingers, stained red with blood, grimaced, then said, "You've got a cut there yourself, Tanner." Vin had just barely opened his mouth when Chris went on, "Don't even bother saying that it's nothing and you're fine. Just hand over the first aid kit and be still." 

Seeing the expression on Chris's face, filled with tenderness and fear, Vin just nodded and pushed the kit toward him. Vin watched Chris while he worked, his face as gentle as his fingers. When he'd smoothed the last of the tape into place, Chris said, "Jesus Vin, I thought that bastard..." His hand slid from Vin's hair down to his shoulder as his voice died, and he gripped hard. 

Vin wrapped his hand around Chris's forearm, holding him just as tightly, and said, "I know." He felt a shudder at the memory of Farouk's eyes on him, then another harder one when he again saw Chris whirl and fall out of sight in the boat. "I thought you was dead," he said, his voice faint and on the edge of breaking. "For a minute there, I was so scared I couldn't hardly breathe."

Chris winced at the words, a flash of pain passing over his features. Vin was sorry he'd said anything about it, until Chris leaned forward and kissed Vin's temple. His lips moved over the place where Farouk's gun had been pressed then he backed away just far enough that Vin could see his eyes, deep and pained and glittering in the dim light. "Know that feeling," Chris said.

Vin blinked, the feel of Chris's lips on his skin more real, more intense than the pain from the cuts and bruises he'd acquired. "Chris?" he asked, genuinely confused. 

Their eyes met and locked and Vin felt again the shock of recognition, of pleasure, of love, that he'd felt the very first time he'd seen Chris. Felt it every time their eyes had met since, he realized, only he hadn't known what he was feeling or what it meant. Chris smiled softly, like he knew what Vin was realizing, like he'd been waiting for it. Vin's cheeks heated in a blush, as he said, "Reckon this is another one of them things we need to talk about back in Denver." 

Chris tilted his head at an appraising angle. "Could talk about it, if you want. I was hoping for less talk, more this..." He leaned forward and brushed his lips across Vin's, his hand on Vin's neck holding firmly but not so firmly that Vin couldn't get away if he wanted to. 

Vin might have laughed at the idea that he could ever want to get away from Chris, but focused his attention on Chris's lips, pressing his own more firmly against them, licking at the little dent in the full lower lip until they parted on a soft moan and his tongue met Chris's. 

They kissed for several minutes, Vin wrapping his hands around Chris's shoulders, Chris's fingers twining deep into his hair, tongues exploring. Vin'd kissed plenty of men before, but never had a kiss that left him breathless the way this one did, his heart pounding and fluttering in his chest like it was about to take flight. He moaned as Chris pulled him around and then bore him backwards on the narrow bench.

Before he'd been entirely laid flat, though, Chris groaned, pain not pleasure, and backed off holding his wounded arm to his side. He looked at Vin with a smile both hungry and apologetic. "Shouldn't have put my weight on it." 

Vin pushed himself back upright and pushed a hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face. "Damn, I'm sorry. Guess we got a little carried away..." 

Chris stroked Vin's cheek with the fingertips of his good hand, then his hand trailed down Vin's chest, smoothing the folds out of the black cotton shirt, ending up with his fingers wrapped around the waistband of Vin's jeans. "Don't be sorry, Vin," he said, his eyes fixed on his hand. "I'm not." 

"Me neither," Vin said. "But maybe not-talking'd better wait for Denver too. We ain't neither of us at our best right now."

Chris gave him a rueful smile. "And Murray and Cody are just upstairs in the wheelhouse. I don't know as I want an audience."

Vin slid out from behind the table and knelt on the floor next to Chris, one hand resting on Chris's bare stomach. "I don't mind waiting, but I'd hate like hell if you changed your mind." 

The words were barely out of his mouth when Chris had pulled him into a deep, wet, kiss full of passion and a wanting that Vin could feel clear to his soul. He was still reeling from the depth of it when Chris eased back and said, "Ain't gonna happen, my mind's been made up a long time." 

With a smile, Vin said, "Then we can wait until neither one of us is hurtin'."

Chris leaned back and closed his eyes, tension and pain still evident in the lines around them, but his voice was clear when he said, "We can wait for a real bed."

Vin laughed, "And privacy." He sobered a bit. "I'd kinda like for all this talkin' and not-talkin' to happen out at your ranch, Chris. I been picturing..."

Chris's eyes slitted open. "Best not tell me you've been fantasizing about us if we're going to wait, Vin." He slung out his arm and pulled Vin close. "Just sit here with me until we're back on land." His eyes closed again.

Vin slipped away. "Better idea, cowboy. I'll go get us some Tylenol and see if there's beer in that fridge, then I'll sit here with you." 

Chris grunted and nodded, and Vin kissed his forehead once before he walked away. Just because he could. 

***

Up in the wheelhouse, Murray paced, arms waving as he said, "What the hell were you doing going after Farouk in the Ebbtide?"

Cody, so calm that he made Murray want to scream even more, said, "I thought I was stopping the bad guy from getting away. Did I miss something?" 

"You could have been shot," Murray shouted. "You could have been killed, or blown up, or taken away and sold to some potentate. Chris got shot," he waved toward the stairs to the salon, "you could have been shot too. And I was waiting off in the wings for news of whether or not you were okay, because you'd lost your wire so I had no way of knowing how you were. Your line went dead so fast I thought they'd killed you. And I couldn't do anything..." He stopped his pacing, wrapping his arms around Cody's chest from behind.

Cody flipped a switch on the console near the pilot wheel and turned to Murray. "Who told the rest of the team to move in?" he asked, putting his hands on Murray's shoulders, grounding him and holding him securely. 

Murray shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose, avoiding Cody's eyes. "I did. All three of you lost your signals at the same time. I figured something was wrong." 

Cody nodded. "You saved our lives, Boz. You saved my life," Cody leaned forward and gave Murray a soft kiss, the prickle of his mustache warming Murray's lips. 

Murray leaned into Cody, resting his head on his shoulder, allowing relief to flood through him. "Yeah. I guess I did. But you weren't supposed to be..." 

Cody kissed him again, more firmly, then said, "You know Nick's going to rip strips out of me for going after Farouk when we get home. Do I have to listen to it twice?" The hint of humor in his voice calmed Murray's nerves even more.

Murray smiled faintly and said, "Okay, okay. He yells better than I do anyway." He pulled Cody close and held him tightly for a minute, taking comfort in his presence, his warmth, and his strength. After a minute, a thought struck him and he pulled away from Cody's arms as he said, "Shouldn't you be steering?" 

Cody said, "Autopilot. It'll be okay for another few minutes until we approach the shipping lane." Murray settled against him again. After another minute or so, Cody asked, "How'd you know Chris was shot?" 

Murray shrugged. "Vin's face when you guys came aboard. He looked like you do when Nick gets hurt, completely blank. It's your hospital face, so no one there sees anything to make them suspicious about us." 

Cody turned back to the pilot wheel, one of Murray's hands held in his own. Murray allowed himself to be tugged right next to Cody so they were standing shoulder to shoulder. As he was reaching for the switch to turn off the autopilot, Cody asked, "You think there's something going on...?" He sounded almost incredulous.

Murray shook his head and rubbed Cody's shoulder. "I think that's not our business," he said, firmly, trying to convince himself more than Cody. Truth was, he was curious about Vin and Chris and what they were hiding from each other. Wanted to help. But he didn't think he could bring it up. He liked Vin, but there were some things he just couldn't see himself doing.

Cody put his arm around Murray's shoulder, distracting him from his thoughts. "You could offer them the use of our bedroom. Just so Larabee can lay down. Since he's injured and all. Then we'd know for sure." 

Murray laughed. "It might even work," he said, then his next thought was lost in a huge yawn. 

Cody gestured with his head toward the padded bench at the back of the wheelhouse. "Why don't you lie down for a while? I'll wake you when we get close to land," he said.

"You'll be okay on your own?" Murray asked, looking toward the seat with longing. 

"Yeah," Cody said, "Nick and I took a nap while you and JD were on the computers. I'll be fine." With a quick arm around Murray's waist to pull him close, Cody kissed Murray, then said, "Just stay up here with me. You don't want to walk in on those guys, you know?" 

Murray laughed again and, with a final kiss, flopped down on the seat, asleep almost as soon as he rested his head on his arm. 

***

On their way into King Harbor, Cody and Murray dropped Chris and Vin off at the Coast Guard station, since Chris they needed to take part in processing the prisoners and questioning Farouk and Carasco. They radioed the Mimi to let Nick know when they were just a few minutes out, so he was waiting for them at their slip when they arrived and helped them to tie up both of the boats.

By the time they were done, the Ebbtide II secured and covered in the slip next to the Riptide, it was well after dawn and the harbor was starting to bustle. Murray put his arms over his lovers shoulders when they were finally all standing together on the pier, then led them toward the privacy of their home. They all needed sleep, he knew, needed it as much as they needed to make love and reassure themselves and each other that no one was hurt. 

As they walked, Nick asked, his voice deceptively calm, "So Cody, what were you doing going after the Bluefin?" 

Murray laughed out loud and Cody said, "Murray's already yelled at me. You don't need to do it..." He stepped over the railing onto the Riptide, and offered Murray an assisting hand.

Taking the offered hand, as he always did, Murray said, "Hey, now. You got me to stop yelling at you because Nick was going to. You've got to listen to at least one of us."

Nick held open the door to the salon for them, and once they entered he said, "I thought that was Tanner in the Ebbtide with Larabee, Cody. Buck had to tell me I was wrong when we were on our way back to shore. What the hell were you doing there? Didn't we agree to leave Farouk to the ATF guys?" 

With an uncomfortable looking shrug, Cody said, "He was getting away and no one else was in a position to get to the boat and go after him. The Coast Guard boat sure as hell wasn't going to be able to catch him." He looked up at Nick, his face worried, and asked, "How are you? A lot of folks were shooting at the Mimi too." 

"Fine. Buck's shoulder got creased, and the Mimi's got a bunch of holes, but nothing came near me," Nick said, running his hands over Cody's arms and back. Reassuring himself that Cody was okay, Murray knew and he understood the impulse. He was fighting his own inclination to make sure that Nick was unhurt. 

Without any one of them seeming to initiate it, they all gravitated to each other, winding up in a tight hug in the middle of the room. Nick and Cody were kissing each other while Murray marked each of their necks in turn, before they turned to kiss him. Nick kissed him first, hard and deep, while Cody ran his hands down Murray's sides, tucking two fingers into Murray's jean's pocket and stroking Murray's hip through them. Murray moaned and turned away from Nick, seeking Cody's mouth with his own, eyes closed. 

It was a passionate ritual of reassurance and claiming, possession and love, one that they'd enacted hundreds of times over the years, though it was different and new every time. As they descended the stairs to their cabin, Murray figured that sleeping could wait. They needed to renew their connection with each other a whole lot more than they needed mere rest. 

***

The next evening, the ten of them took over the outside deck at Straightaway's, drinking and laughing and sharing stories of their various adventures the night before. Most of them sat around three big tables that had been pulled together, sharing pitchers of beer that were drained almost as quickly as they were served, at least at first. Waitresses had already brought them several trays full of nachos, potato skins, and buffalo wings. 

Vin leaned on the wall in the shadow of a large bush, watching as JD talked with Josiah, moving one hand across the other like he was trying to convey how fast the Ebbtide could move. Josiah was nodding and smiling with a mixture of indulgence and interest, his usual reaction to JD's speed junkie tendencies, as was Ezra, listening to JD and Nick, on his other side, at the same time. 

Buck flirted with a pretty waitress wearing a bikini top and a sarong skirt. She was cooing sympathetically over his sling and a bandage he'd applied to his forehead. Vin knew for certain that there was no cut there, but Buck figured that an obvious bandage like that would work better with the ladies than something hidden by his shirt. Nathan walked by, said something to Buck that made him splutter, and the girl walked away in a mock huff, shaking her hips in her tight skirt. Buck was practically drooling as he watched her walk away. Vin chuckled to himself. Good ol' Buck. 

Chris and Cody were smoking cigars and talking quietly at their own small table a few feet away, clearly enjoying themselves but not quite part of the festivities. As Vin himself wasn't. 

Vin pushed away from the wall and sat down at the table with Cody and Chris. Cody moved his chair a little bit away, making room, but Chris didn't, so Vin found himself with his leg pressed against Chris's under the table, reassurance and distraction at the same time. They hadn't talked again, hadn't even touched, since their conversation on the Riptide, and Vin wasn't entirely certain he knew where they stood. Though he had a pretty good idea, he reckoned. 

After a moment of greetings, the conversation Cody and Chris'd been having before he arrived resumed, Cody saying, "I wanted to train for the Rangers, maybe even go into Special Ops, but Nick didn't. He liked being an MP, liked the police work. Just the right mix of danger and boredom, he said. I wanted to prove myself."

Chris tilted his head, considering that for a moment before he asked, "To who?"

Cody laughed. "I don't know. My parents, maybe. All the folks who'd dismissed me as a rich pretty-boy my whole life." 

Chris said, "It's an awful lot of work to go through, a lot of pain, just to rub some shitty little bastard's nose in it." He laughed, then went on, "Though I can tell you it was damned satisfying to show Tim Aikers my SEAL tattoo." He pushed up the sleeve of his black t-shirt and showed Cody the tattoo on his bicep. "I was the captain of the basketball team and he was the captain of the football team. Total prick. Last time I went back to Bloomington, though, I was a SEAL and he was an insurance agent. I liked that." 

Vin smiled inwardly, thinking of leaving the two of them to their conversation, when Cody turned to him and asked, "What about you, Vin? Murray says you were in the Army. Did you ever think of joining the Rangers?" 

Vin shrugged and said, "Nah. I was lined up to be a sniper about ten minutes after they put a rifle in my hands, and nobody ever let me think about anything different. I didn't have no one back home I wanted to show off to anyhow." He smiled faintly and caught Cody's eyes, noticing for the first time the depths they contained, maybe not the depths of loss that Chris carried, but he sure went way deeper than his surface of charm and good looks. Vin smiled at him more broadly, winning a surprised smile in return.

Chris shifted in his seat, pressing their legs more firmly together. Vin turned to look at him and Cody, handsome as he was, faded from his thoughts entirely. Chris's hair caught the sunlight and glowed like an improbable halo and the light brought out the green in his eyes. Chris smiled, his eyes dancing over Vin's face. Vin ducked his head, breaking their eye contact before they showed Cody, showed all of them, more than they ought. 

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, may I have your attention," Ezra said suddenly, standing and tapping on his wine glass with a knife. "I'd like to propose a toast to the very successful collaboration of the Federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives with the Riptide Detective Agency. If only we could get along so well with all local agencies." 

Buck turned away from the pretty waitress, who was now pressing an ice pack to the fake bandage on his forehead and said, "Hear, hear!" Laughter rippled around the table. 

Before Ezra could start talking again, Chris stood up and said, "Standish, I'm the leader of this team and if any toasts are going to be made, I'll make them, damn it." 

Ezra tipped an invisible hat and sat down with a warm smile as Nathan said, "With Chris speakin', we'll get back to drinking faster." 

Buck gave another hearty, "Hear, hear!", sparking a new round of laughter. 

Picking up his beer mug, Chris said, "All right, short and sweet it is. l just want to thank Cody, Nick and Murray for their assistance, for their boats, and for their computers." JD chirped soggily and raised his nearly empty mug and Vin wondered how much he'd had to drink already. "If I hear about you boys planting another illegal bug though, I'll have your asses." 

Nick and Murray looked at each other uncomfortably while the others laughed. Vin caught Murray's eye and smiled at him until he realized Chris was joking and relaxed. Murray leaned over and whispered something to Nick, who leaned back in his chair with a big smile. 

Chris went on, "And finally, if you ever need any help from the ATF, you'd best look us up. We believe in taking care of our friends." He raised his glass high then offered it to Vin and Cody, who were nearest him to clink their own against. Vin touched his glass to both of theirs, letting his eyes linger on Chris's for a bit. 

This time it was Josiah who said, "Hear, hear", followed by a flurry of raised glasses, handshakes and congratulations. When that passed, the party resumed in high spirits and the laughter and bragging continued until the owner herself had to shoo them all out in the wee hours of the morning.

*** Epilogue: Denver ***

Vin took a deep breath and rubbed his head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, before ringing the doorbell of Chris's ranch. Maybe at another time, on another day, he'd have just walked in, Chris left the door unlocked if he was expecting someone, but this wasn't any other day. 

They'd gotten back to Denver late on Wednesday, the operation having gone down on Monday night, and the remainder of their week, and even the weekend, had been spent with processing and paperwork. The inevitable internal investigations because of the fatalities, one of them from Vin's gun, had taken up a lot of time and energy, as would the mandatory visits with the psychiatrist in the coming weeks. The days had been long and Vin'd had no time to speak to Chris at all about anything that didn't directly pertain to the case. 

They'd finally gotten to the point where the whole team could take a couple of days off, even though it was the middle of the week. Vin'd found a terse note on his desk when he was getting ready to head home. It was short and to the point. "Time for that talk. -- Chris"

Vin'd taken a half hour to stop by his apartment, change out of the slacks and shirt he was forced to wear to the Federal Building and into a pair of worn jeans and a faded blue t-shirt. If the talk included a reprimand, as he still fretted it might, he wanted to be comfortable. If it was going to be more of the not-talking that they had started on the Riptide, well, he'd been told that he looked good in those jeans, and that couldn't hurt either. 

He was about to ring the doorbell again, when Chris answered, a nervous scowl on his face. The scowl faded, though the nervous look didn't, when he saw Vin and he said, "What the hell're you ringing the bell for? Come on in." He stepped aside and opened the door wide to let Vin through. 

Vin nodded and stepped in, handing Chris the six-pack of beer he'd brought. Chris looked at it curiously, a hint of a smile in his eyes, and Vin said, embarrassed, "My favorite Mexican beer, found it in the mercado near my place. Can't get it much around here and I thought you might like it. If you don't want it, I'll take it with me when I go." 

Handing two of the bottles to Vin, Chris said, "Go on into the den. I'll stick these in the fridge." 

Vin took the bottles and walked into the comfortable den. The whole room glowed with an orange sunset that was playing behind the mountains and Vin sank into the corner of the leather sofa so he could watch it. He set one of the beers down on the coffee table and popped the other one, drinking deeply. 

Chris came in while he was drinking and sat down on the chair next to the sofa, picking up his beer as he passed. They were so close their knees could touch, but far enough apart that Vin's heart sank a little. Apparently, not-talking was not in the plan. 

After taking a long swig of his beer, Chris looked appraisingly at the label and said, "That is good. Bohemia, huh?" 

Vin nodded. "Yeah, Benito just started stocking it. I've been after him for it for years." He picked at the label of his beer for just a second then said, "What'd you want to talk about, Chris?" 

Chris tilted his head and a worry creased his forehead. "Well, we started a couple of interesting conversations back there on the Riptide and I was hoping we could finish at least one, maybe both, this evening." He set his beer on the floor on the far side of his chair and reached out and rested his hand on Vin's knee. 

Vin swallowed hard and moved his leg closer to Chris, making the gap easier to bridge, and put his own hand on Chris's. "I was kind of hopin' for that too." He tilted his head and studied Chris's face for a moment, then said, "You ain't changed your mind about..." He fought to keep his voice neutral, like he didn't have his heart riding on Chris's answer. 

Interrupting him with a squeeze on his knee, Chris said, "Hell, no. I've wanted you for months, Vin. Just took you talking to Bozinsky about quitting for me to do anything about it." When he finished speaking he looked away, toward the sunset, and Vin could see clearly the embarrassment he felt at having been so open. 

Relief flooded Vin as he held more tightly to Chris's hand, asking, "How's your arm?" He set his beer down on the side table.

Chris turned to him, eyes narrowed, and said, "Fine, why?" 

"Just checkin'," Vin said, spreading his legs even more widely and sliding Chris's hand up his thigh a few inches. "Ain't neither one of us hurtin' now. And this here sofa's near as good as a bed." With his free hand he patted the soft leather at his side.

Chris smiled, finally, and twisted out of the chair to kneel between Vin's spread legs, pushing the coffee table out of the way. "And there's no one around but us for a mile in any direction." 

Licking his lips, Vin nodded and wrapped his hand around Chris's head, letting the silky strands of hair twine around his fingers. "I call that privacy," he said, leaning forward. 

Chris moved into the kiss at the same time Vin did, so their lips met with more force than Vin'd intended. Even so, as soon as their lips touched, both of them pressed harder into it, mouths open, tongues twining around each other. Chris tasted of beer, smoke, and a dark spiciness that was all his own and Vin couldn't get enough of that flavor. 

From the way Chris was holding onto him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other hand gripping Vin's upper arm tightly, holding him close, Chris liked what he was tasting too and that thought made Vin groan. He slid his hips forward and wrapped his legs around Chris's thighs, locking his ankles together. Chris leaned even further into him and the change in position brought their groins together. At the contact, Chris groaned and backed away from the kiss, making a little space between their bodies.

Vin fought him, his legs holding Chris prisoner, until one of Chris's hands stroked down Vin's belly and cupped the hard cock in his jeans, shaping it through the fabric, hardening it with his touch. Vin's put his hand over Chris's, just so he could know that it was really, finally, Chris's hand on him and not just another dream. Even through the denim, Chris's grip was perfect, his thumb rubbing over the head adding the perfect extra beat of pleasure.

Chris's eyes were fixed on his hand, on the bulge in Vin's jeans, and his eyes glittered darkly. "Christ, Vin," he said, voice rough, then his words ended in a swallow as Vin's cock jumped in his hand. 

Vin waited for a bit, to see if he would say more, but instead of words, Chris took his hand off Vin's cock, drawing disappointed groans from both of them, then Chris started fumbling with Vin's belt, all of his normal grace lost in haste and desperation. Vin yanked off his own shirt, dropping it on the floor next to Chris's knees, before leaning forward and working on the buttons of Chris's shirt, suddenly desperate to touch and feel that soft, velveteen skin. Vin was vaguely aware of a thunk as Chris dropped his belt, more aware of Chris's fingers brushing his belly, nudging his covered cock, as he fumbled with the button fly on his jeans.

Vin had only gotten one button of Chris's shirt undone before Chris leaned back, out of reach, and, without a word, pulled his shirt and undershirt off over his head, buttons ignored. Throwing it aside, Chris leaned in for another kiss, hard and hot and far too brief, pressing Vin into the back of the sofa, the soft leather warm against his bare skin. 

Pulling away from the kiss, Chris said, "Now, stay there and let me do this," as his hands went again to the buttons at Vin's fly. Every touch, every movement of his fingers was a caress that had Vin panting, moaning, with the desire for more. When the second button finally gave way, Chris pulled back the fabric of jeans and briefs, then groaned and leaned in, open mouthed. His tongue was on the head of Vin's cock, tracing the flared edge of it, licking pre-come out of the little slit, and Vin's moans gave way to whimpers as he wrapped his hands around Chris's head. Chris was making his own noises, pleased sighs and wet sounds as he went after Vin's cock, his hands fumbling at the rest of the buttons.

Lord God as many times as he'd dreamed about his, wished for it, he'd never let himself think that he might actually have Chris Larabee on his knees in front of him, going after his cock like it was a prize he'd been waiting for. Vin shuddered and groaned, wrapping his hands around Chris's head, holding him in place, unable to resist the heat of Chris's mouth. Half his length was still trapped in his jeans, but he rocked his hips, rubbing the head against Chris's lips until just that bit of friction was almost enough to bring him off. When the last button finally gave way, Chris backed off with a long last lick up the length of Vin's cock that made Vin whimper. 

Chris slid Vin's jeans and underwear off and stroked his stomach, a soothing touch that electrified Vin's skin, and said, "What do you want, Vin? You said you've been picturing..." Chris's lips were moist with spit and pre-come and his eyes black with desire and Vin knew he'd never in his life seen anything sexier than that.

Vin swallowed hard, and said, his voice rough from moaning and panting, "You was doing just fine, damn it. Didn't need to stop."

A slow smile spread across Chris's face, sparkling in his eyes, and he said, "Okay, then," and, without breaking their eye contact, licked across the head of Vin's cock, then sucked it into his mouth, wrapping one fist around the base of it. Vin moaned and arched against the back of the sofa, trying to drive himself more deeply into Chris's mouth. Chris did something amazing with his tongue and the edge of his teeth that made Vin howl, and that made Chris's eyes darken. He did it again and with a shout Vin was spilling into his mouth, their eyes still locked as he came. 

Chris gentled him through the orgasm, one hand stroking Vin's belly, the other on his thigh. When the world stopped spinning around him and his heart steadied, Vin reached out for Chris, pulling him close, suddenly desperate to taste his own seed in Chris's mouth. They tangled in a clash of tongues and teeth, Vin licking deeply into Chris's mouth until he felt drunk on the flavor of himself and Chris. 

His hands roved down Chris's back taking in the feel of his skin, like the softest leather, and the way it twitched under his fingers, muscles rippling and back arching to deepen the contact. They both groaned in frustration when Vin hit the waistband of Chris's jeans and his heavy belt. Vin pulled out of the kiss, resting his forehead on Chris's shoulder so he could see what he was doing as he fumbled open Chris's pants, drawing his cock out.

The sight of it, thick, plum-colored with blood, head shining with precome and the stretch of skin, was almost more than he could bear and he slithered down between Chris's legs pushing the other man to stand, until he was kneeling at Chris's feet. He needed to taste it, to feel that perfectly defined head against his lips and his tongue, to feel it filling his mouth, needed it more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. He hadn't ever really let himself imagine Chris going down on him, but he'd pictured this plenty of times, imagining Chris's moans, the taste of his come, the feel of his skin. 

When he took Chris's cock into his mouth, moistening his lips with the salty fluid at the tip, letting the slick-smooth skin slide over his tongue, feeling the crown against the roof of his mouth, the reality was so much better than he'd imagined that he groaned, and pulled Chris in deeper. He needed more, needed to feel Chris all the way through him. 

Above him Chris moaned, his hands wrapped around Vin's head, holding him gently and carefully in place. Vin suckled at him, clawing his pants and briefs the rest of the way off until he could feel the butter soft skin of Chris's ass under his palms. He was only vaguely aware of a change in the noises Chris was making, his attention entirely focused on the cock in his mouth when Chris pulled him firmly away from his cock. "Not like this, Vin. Not this time," he said, and his voice was rough and tender. 

Heart lifting with the promise of other, future, times with Chris, Vin shifted back, so that he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, and Chris twisted him further around until he was lying on the sofa with Chris on top of him, their cocks lined up and rubbing together. Vin's cock, which he'd thought spent for at least a while, hardened fast under the new stimulation. 

They rubbed together like that, precome slicking the slide and increasing the feel until Chris was panting over him, grunting, and Vin could feel his belly muscles tightening and coiling with his pending release. Chris backed away just far enough to slide his hand in and take both of their cocks in one hard grip. His thumb, work roughened, rubbed the head of Vin's cock, and that additional stimulation made Vin gasp and pull Chris's hips down into his, spreading his legs as wide as possible to increase the contact between them.

Chris groaned and thrust harder and faster for just a few more strokes until he came with a loud cry and a shudder that rocked through both of them. The surge of heat and slickness between them triggered Vin's orgasm and he clutched at Chris's shoulders as it rolled over him in a slow, sweet swell like warmed honey.

Chris sagged as the tide of his orgasm ebbed and Vin held him close, arms wrapped around Chris's shoulders, and let them both rock on the aftershocks. Chris felt good in his arms, solid and substantial, real in a way that the other people he'd been with didn't. He was, for the first time in his life, truly comfortable all the way down to his bones, to his soul, despite Chris's weight on him and the awkward lay of his right leg. 

When they roused some time later, the orange had faded out of the sky, leaving only deep blue darkness. Chris rolled off Vin, easing himself to sit on the floor by the sofa but twisted so his arm lay across Vin's thighs. Vin reached down to the floor, fumbling around until he found his t-shirt, which he used to wipe the come off his belly before handing it to Chris, without a word.

As he wiped himself off, Chris gave a rueful smile, almost embarrassed, and said, "Damn, Tanner, you're something else. That wasn't quite what I pictured." While Vin was taking a deep breath to keep the disappointment, the hurt, that threatened him at bay, Chris went on, "I wanted to take you slow and sweet, in the bedroom maybe. Or for you to take me. I didn't mean to go humping at you like a horny dog." 

Letting out his breath, Vin said, hope fluttering around him like a flock of orange butterflies, "We'll get to that other stuff. I got more I wanted to do too." He licked his lips looking for Chris's flavor on them, finding only a hint of it that made him want more. "Anyway, I liked you going at me like that, cowboy, felt real, real good." 

Chris dropped his head and kissed the point of Vin's hipbone. "We've got plenty of time for everything we both want," he said, eyes finding Vin's. He rose to his feet, lithe and graceful and even in the gloom, his skin seemed to glow like he was attracting all the light in the room. Vin took the hand Chris offered him and stood. When he reached for his clothes, Chris stopped him, saying, "I've got the hot tub all heated up and ready to go. Soak?" 

Vin grinned. "You know I ain't gonna say no to that." He grabbed his beer off the side table. It had warmed to near room temperature. "Pity about the beer though. This stuff ain't no good warm." 

"You go on outside, I'll grab fresh ones," Chris said, taking Vin's beer and picking his own up off the floor by the armchair. 

Outside, Chris had prepared the area around the hot tub well. There was a table with towels and bathrobes for them next to the tub and a lawn torch provided light. The water foamed and bubbled and Vin climbed in, settling into a corner so he could watch for Chris to walk out and still look at the mountains silhouetted against the night sky. 

Chris stepped through the glass door, naked, sculpted, and perfect, his skin golden where the torchlight touched it. Damn, Vin thought, his mouth going dry and his cock twitching at the sight. 

Chris looked up at him and smiled, wolfish and cocky, like he'd seen Vin's reaction written all over his face. He handed a beer to Vin as he climbed into the tub, taking a seat next to him and putting one arm around Vin's shoulders. Chris took a long drink then said without any warning or preamble, "So, do you want to give up sharpshooting, Vin?"

Vin choked on his beer, then, when he'd coughed his lungs clear, said, "Damn, Larabee. You don't beat around the bush do you?" He pushed a little away, so the water bubbled between them like a fragile barrier, and said, "I don't. Not really."

"So what was that conversation with Bozinsky about?" 

"Like I said then what-ifs is all," Vin said, hoping to end the conversation there. But Chris just looked at him, serious and intent and unblinking until he went on. "I got trained up as a sniper 'bout as soon as I went into the army and they sent me to Somalia pretty much straight off after that." He took a deep breath. "I guess the details don't much matter, what matters is that on my third assignment, I was sent in to take out an insurgent leader. We'd been told his place was booby-trapped all to Hell, so they wanted a sniper to get him. And I did, perfect shot, clean through his skull right between his eyes." He pointed to the place on his own forehead. "Turned out he was just a kid, maybe 16, innocent as any boy who had to fight for his life every day could be. Our intel was completely wrong, but I'd still shot him, pretty as you please. Just like I was taught." He took a drink of his beer, gathering his thoughts.

In the silence, Chris said, "What happened?" 

"Army covered it up," Vin said with half-smile. "Kid didn't have no family, so it weren't too hard for them. I told my commander that I wanted a transfer, maybe into the infantry or communications. That nearly got me a reprimand. Killing the kid was fine, but telling them I didn't want to do it no more would have stayed in my permanent record. So I backed down." 

Chris leaned forward and put his hand on Vin's shoulder. "Do you want to stop now?" His voice was kind and warm. Sympathetic, maybe.

Vin shrugged and shook his head no. "I'm good at what I do, I know that, and I wouldn't trust you or anyone on the team to any ol' shooter. Most of the time I don't even question it. I got a God-given talent and I'm using it as best I can. Can't no one do more than that." He scooted closer to Chris, taking back the space he'd made between them. "I just...," he took a deep breath, "I just didn't never plan on being a killer. Sometimes I wonder how I got here." 

Chris put his arm back around Vin's shoulders and Vin molded himself more closely to Chris's body, twining their legs together and resting his head in the crook of Chris's neck. Chris said, "I don't think of you as a killer, Vin. Your rifle's saved my life dozens of times. Saved all of us." Chris kissed Vin's head. "That's how I think of you."

"Thanks," Vin said, softly, letting the words sink in for a minute. He set his empty beer bottle on the edge of the tub and moved around so that he was straddling Chris's thighs, hands on his lean shoulders. He took Chris's mouth in a deep, hot kiss, a tide of passion rising between them and then rocking back onto his haunches, so he could look into Chris's eyes. "So are we done with this talk now?" 

Chris slid his hands down Vin's chest, lingering just a moment at Vin's nipples, smiling wolfishly when Vin shuddered in response to that touch. When he reached the tops of Vin's hip-bones he stopped, and said, "Almost. Want you to remember that if you change your mind, if you don't want to do it any more, I'll be right there beside you the whole way." 

Vin ducked his head, saying, "I appreciate that." 

Chris lifted his head up with a gentle hand. "You've got a place at my side, Vin, no matter what you're doing. If you took up making baskets for a living, I'd still want you right here with me." 

Their eyes met and Vin could read the truth there in the torch-sparked depths of them. His face must have showed some of the wonder he was feeling at that declaration, that promise, because Chris smiled at him sweetly and said, "Now we're done with talking." 

The kiss that followed was filled with promise and tenderness and love that hadn't yet been spoken of but would be someday. Or not, some things didn't need to be talked about at all. 

*** The End ***


End file.
